Whispers of Menace
by Beth Weasley
Summary: A Jedi Knight follows her instincts - a habit which has put her on the High Council's 'bad' list - and tags along on someone else's mission. Her actions carry the potential for change on a galactic scale...
1. Chapter 1

A note to my readers-

Many of you may be confused by parts of this story, both those scenes from the movie that are not included and a scene or two near the beginning that wasn't in the movie, or possibly by my calendar references.

As far as scenes go, I'm trying to stick with a first-person limited point of view for this story. Therefore, scenes where my narrator could not have been present or observed from a distance are not included. Also, I used the script for _The Phantom Menace_ that is posted on the BlueHarvest website, which is obviously (to me) not the final version. At least one new scene comes from this source.

The calendar use is not the Christian or Julian calendar that we are all used to. Instead, I use the 'official' Star Wars Calendar that can be found on Wookieepedia - a source that has become indispensable for my Star Wars writing. Said calendar has 24-hour days, grouped into 5-day weeks and 7-week months - ten of them. In addition to these 350 days, there are three week-long festivals and three one-day holidays, of which none count as part of a month, bringing the total to 368 days. I hope that this helps readers to better understand the time spans when I mention weeks and months.

Regarding romantic pairings, I prefer to stick with the canon couples and could-have-been couples. This is not meant as a slight to other sexualities at all - some of my best friends have been attracted to their own gender. It's just that I find some of the alternate pairings uncomfortable. Especially 'Obidala', as I've experienced how wrong that kind of age difference can go. I can enjoy the occasional well-executed 'ObiAni', the best example (in my opinion)_ being Polgarawolf's lovely 'Thwarting the Revenge of the Sith' stories, though they are no longer online, as far as I have been able to find. But putting Qui-Gon with either of the boys is just... *shudders* There's either 33 or 49 years' difference there, for cripes' sake!

Granted, there will be a couple with a sizeable age difference in this series, but there's a maturity and self-awareness factor in it.

I _am_ going to be twisting around the timeline of some events that take place in the comic books, but I promise that I have good reasons.

Thanks for putting up with this note (or skipping it entirely, as I know some will do). Please remember to review; it helps make me a better writer!

Welcome to...

Whispers of Menace

A _Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace_ Alternate Universe

**Chapter One:**

**Stowaway**

Ninety-nine point nine percent of the time, being a Jedi is not all that it's cracked up to be. And it's a far cry from what most non-sensitives think it is. Of course, that's my personal opinion, and I'm a long way from being the typical Jedi.

If such a thing even exists.

For one thing, the Master who chose me as his Padawan ambushed me with it in front of the entire High Council. Then, at my Knighting ceremony, I swore to a much older version of the Jedi Code than is taught in the Temple. That particular bit of 'audacity' put me on the Council's bad side.

So for the next seven years, I received the worst missions they could find, often cooling my heels on Coruscant for months between assignments. And when my Master, the renowned seer and respected Council member Sifo-Dyas, vanished without a word to anyone, my worries were brushed aside and ignored. I'd been concerned for six months, expending my nervous energy by working on the Temple's horde of maintenance and astromech droids.

I was on my way to do just that when my life changed.

Two humans turned into the corridor I'd wandered along, walking toward me. From a distance, I could tell little about the pair except that, given the apparent hair lengths, they were probably Master and Padawan. Then, a dozen meters closer, I recognized the elder as Qui-Gon Jinn, a man I admired despite never being introduced to him. I often sparred with his former Master when we both happened to be on Coruscant.

"The ship will be ready to leave shortly after First Meal tomorrow, so I'd recommend wrapping up anything you're planning on doing with Bant, Reeft, and Garen when you see them this evening."

"Planning, Master? Us?"

"That innocent tone may fool half the Council, Obi-Wan, but it doesn't work on me. I know what you and your friends get up to when you're off by yourselves."

I stifled an immature giggle as they turned again. The most recent incident in which some of the other young Knights suspected the quartet's involvement had turned Master Windu's tabards pink for weeks. Why pink, and why it only affected his tabards, had yet to be figured out. And that was only a _little_ prank, for them.

The premonition hit me like a freight hauler, seeming to make my head ring and fill my montrals with duracrete at the same time. Whatever mission Jinn and Kenobi had just been given, they needed me for backup. With the way the other eleven Council members regarded me, I knew better than to report the instinctive feeling. I would have to stow away on their transport and wait until it had entered hyperspace before revealing myself.

When Knight Fiaran greeted me in the hall that led to both our rooms and the communal 'fresher shared by anywhere between a dozen and twenty junior Knights, I simply nodded at her and tried not to wince. The darkness inside the tiny dormitory I'd lived in for seven years helped. Working from memory, I pulled out a rucksack and began packing.

The few times that I'd been part of a group mission, others had initially called me paranoid; any bag I took carried spare robes, extra equipment, parts for repairing my equipment, extra packaged food, and a pouch of precious metal ingots to use in lieu of Republic credits if the need arose. The precise inventory varied from one assignment to another, but I'd always needed at least one of the items I'd included.

It's not paranoia when it happens to be the truth.

I secured the knapsack, then laid on my narrow bed in the dark for hours. Not having a window assured that the sunlight would not bother me while I waited for the headache to subside and activity in the Temple complex to settle for the night.

Eventually, the pain faded to the point where I could think again. Aunt Shaak, my father's younger sister and a Jedi Master, would be very worried if I didn't let her know somehow that I hadn't just gone missing. A quick note would do, though, so I got up and accessed the desk's data terminal to write one.

Master Ti,

I am sorry that I'm doing this to you again, Aunt, but I'm needed as backup on someone else's assignment. There's no need to send an extraction team after me.

I shouldn't be gone too long this time. The Council wouldn't approve of my involvement, but you know how little I care about their opinion of me. You also know how my hunches pan out. I promise I'll be careful.

Serra

A smile tugged at my lips as I instructed the system to deliver the message at noon and logged out. My dark gray cloak came out of the closet, tossed on the bed next to the rucksack as I picked up the holobook I'd been reading off and on for the past three weeks.

Before long, it seemed, the display on my desk chrono flipped over to three in the morning. Of course, that had been the point of burying my nose in a romance, to pass the time. I sighed, putting it away and pulling on my boots. A soft piece of cloth bound my headtails together and out of the way; they weren't nearly as sensitive as a Twi'lek's _lekku_, despite serving the same purpose, but it was a lot easier to tie them up than risk them getting in the way at the wrong moment. Then I donned the cloak and knapsack and left the room.

The corridors were deserted, save for the occasional maintenance droid doing its scheduled work. The landing bay was, too, with one rust-red cruiser standing among a small, motley collection of snubfighters. I probed the circuits of the main hatch with a thread of the Force. My peculiar talent with electronics allowed me to trigger the hatch release and get aboard.

After checking out the rest of the vessel, I chose an escape pod in which to hide. No one could call it a decent place to sleep or even meditate, and that made it a good spot for me. I sank deep into a trance, shutting down my Force signature and effectively vanishing to other Jedi.

Eight hours later, my eyes opened and flicked to the tiny viewport. The irregular white, blue, and black streaks reassured me that the vessel was in hyperspace— they couldn't turn around and take me back to Coruscant without delaying their trip greatly. And from Master Jinn's comments the evening before, they couldn't afford to lose that time. I stretched out in the Force, feeling the other two Jedi's startlement as they sensed me, and headed for the mess.

"Knight Ti." Master Jinn fixed me with a stern gaze. "What am I supposed to tell your aunt?" I suppressed a grin.

"You won't need to," I replied, deliberately casual. "She should be getting my message in about an hour." Then I shrugged. "It's not like I'm needed at the Temple. But… you _will_ need me on this mission." The older man's eyebrows rose as his ginger-haired Padawan scoffed.

"Another one of your 'hunches'?" Kenobi's voice dripped with scorn.

"Do not discount her instincts, Obi-Wan." The Master transferred his stare to his charge. "She _is_ a former Padawan of Master Sifo-Dyas."

The young man's expression changed to a mixture of surprise and confusion. After a moment, he returned his attention to the datapad in his hands. Curious, I moved to peer over his shoulder. On the screen, a distinctively-shaped ship was depicted with a verdant planet behind it.

"The Trade Federation? Is this about the blockade?" I knew that plasma energy was one of Naboo's primary exports, and the market prices had soared in recent months.

"Yes. They have an exclusive contract with the Naboo, but the workers on the planet went on strike. The Nemoidians aren't saying why, though." It sounded to me like Master Jinn had his own theory.

"So you've been sent to negotiate a settlement, get commerce going again." That got me a terse nod. "How long has this gone on, that they're calling in _Jedi?_"

"Months," Kenobi replied, biting the word off short. "The Naboo have gone months without any contact with anyone but the Nemoidians."

Well, that explained why this specific pair had been given the assignment. Qui-Gon had a reputation for being reliably calm, sometimes aggravatingly so, in addition to being an excellent swordsman. Young Obi-Wan had the focus of a surgical laser, augmented by a willingness to get in someone's face and intimidate them into agreement, when necessary. Of course, he could clearly use a bit of an attitude adjustment, and I'd heard he had yet to decide which dueling form suited him best.

I estimated that he'd remain a Padawan for another year or two before he would be Knighted.

What unsettled me was the feeling that this assignment would change all three of us in ways we would never have expected.


	2. Chapter 2

Whispers of Menace

A _Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace_ Alternate Universe

**Chapter Two:**

**Short Negotiations**

The slight change in the cruiser's vibration told me that we'd dropped below the speed of light, and I stood. Master Jinn moved almost as soon as I did, Kenobi only a second or two behind him. The Jedi Master led the way to the bridge, stopping just far enough behind the pilot to avoid being in the comm's visual range. The Nemoidian on the other end was babbling away.

"Captain." Master Qui-Gon kept his voice down, and the woman looked at him over her shoulder.

"Yes, sir?"

"Tell them we wish to board immediately."

"Yes, sir." She turned back around to the comm. "With all due respect for the Trade Federation, the ambassadors for the Supreme Chancellor wish to board immediately."

_~Like they deserve any respect at all,~_ I thought. The Nemoidian smiled, though he obviously didn't feel like doing so.

"Yes, yes, of course." The atonal lilt of his voice grated on my senses. "Ahh… as you know, our blockade is perfectly legal, and we'd be happy to receive the ambassador. Happy to." He appeared quite the opposite, and had missed the captain's plural. The co-pilot flipped a switch, and the image vanished.

The view through the bridge ports disconcerted me. Over a dozen of the gigantic Trade Federation craft had been visible at first, disappearing as we approached the flagship. And that was only on _this_ side of the planet. Why so many for a planet with next to no military?

Our cruiser set down in a massive docking bay containing a couple of luxury shuttles and about forty tan droids. Many of the mechanical beings carried blaster carbines.

My human comrades raised the hoods of their cloaks, and I followed suit, my headtails slipping into the extra space designed for them as I lifted the material over my montrals. Only then did we leave the ship and head for the single set of open doors. A silver protocol droid waited there for us.

"I am Tee-Cee Fourteen, at your service." Its voice sounded nearly feminine. "This way, please."

The walk took several minutes, feeling like we'd gone in circles before we reached the minimally-decorated conference room. Granted, the viewport opposite the doors offered a lovely view of Naboo, and the simplicity of the furnishings let it truly shine. Master Jinn and young Obi-Wan sat in high-backed chairs at the long table, dropping their hoods, but I couldn't settle my nerves and paced by the viewport instead. The droid had stopped at the door.

"I hope you honored sirs will be most comfortable here. My master will be with you shortly." It left as the lump of ice in my gut grew.

"I have a bad feeling about this." The Padawan frowned worriedly as he spoke.

"I don't sense anything."

"It's not about the mission, exactly, Master, it's something… elsewhere, elusive."

"I'd like to second that feeling." I shuddered as it got a little stronger. "And it's giving me the creeping horrors."

"Keep your focus on the here and now," Qui-Gon told his apprentice, ignoring my comment. "Be mindful of the Living Force."

I snorted, crossing my arms and leaning against the transparisteel to keep my eyes on the doors. Apparently the older man was still sore about my uninvited presence.

"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan ducked his head. A strained pause filled the room. "How do you think the Viceroy will deal with the Chancellor's demands?"

"These Federation types are cowards." I winced at the statement. "The negotiations will be short."

Now I was even _more_ on guard. In my experience, cornered 'cowards' tried to kill you from a distance, rather than allowing you to close in any further. Uncrossing my arms, I pushed my cloak back far enough to rest my hands on the pommels of my lightsabers.

The droid returned, bearing a tray with three small, silvery cups. The others seemed glad to have something to do as we waited, but I demurred. Since the doors had closed and the droid made no move to leave, the coming attack must be something they could have set up ahead of time…

An explosion reverberated through the massive ship, and the Force-presences of the cruiser's crew winked out. A flick of my fingers put cool metal and plastoid against my palms. The Master-Padawan pair leapt to their feet, jostling the protocol droid and bringing their own lightsabers to ready positions. None of us, though, activated our blades.

"There goes our ride," I quipped. Two pairs of eyes glanced at me, each with something different behind them.

'_Must_ you state the obvious?' Kenobi's blue-gray gaze asked. Shards, but the boy was uptight.

'Alright, yes, you told us so,' conceded Qui-Gon's blue orbs. At least he could admit it when he'd been wrong. Well, admit it without opening his mouth.

A sudden hissing startled me, its source making me swallow a yelp. Gray-green fog seeped from low vents all around the room.

"Dioxis!" Surprisingly, my older colleague and I spoke at precisely the same moment, and I shot him a glance as I sucked in as much clean air as my lungs would hold. I saw him shrug back just before the gas concealed him from my view.

We heard the doors hiss open, followed by the protocol droid's muffled apology to someone or some_thing_. I couldn't sense anything biological nearby, at least, besides my comrades.

"Go check it out, Corporal." Stars. Whatever it was, it had a stereotypically bad-quality Trade Federation droid vocoder. Fortunately, it meant we wouldn't have to kill any sentients right away.

Master Jinn led our small-scale charge into the clearer air of the corridor, and tan-painted durasteel parts began spinning off in every direction. The closer glances at the droids told me all I needed to know; they were built for one purpose only, and that was war. All compunctions left me then, and I permitted the Force to draw me to the life-forms in the massive ship's main control room.

By the time we got to the bridge, the Nemoidians had closed the primary blast doors, and Qui-Gon wasted no time before plunging his emerald blade through the durasteel. While he threw his weight into cutting a hole, my right shoulder brushed against Obi-Wan's left. His pale blue lightsaber and my two indigo ones wove a barrier of coherent light to cover the older man as he worked.

The anxiety and fear on the other side of the bulkheads rose rapidly as the molten arch being carved through the door grew. There was a series of clanks from inside the walls, and one… two… no, _three_ sets of additional blast doors sealed behind the barrier. The Jedi Master took a half step back, considered, then stabbed again, blade precisely centered in the opening.

Moments after we dispatched another wave of the tan droids, the sound of rolling metal echoed along the corridor. The Padawan at my side stiffened, obviously recognizing the source, though I couldn't place it.

"Master, destroyers!" he called. Two bronze metallic wheels careened around the corner, suddenly sprouting two claw-like legs each. As they rocked forward, their legs planted about ten meters from us, a third leg extended behind them, and the rest expanded into an arch that ended in glowing red visual sensors and massive arms made from cut-down blaster cannons. Last of all, faint blue 'bubbles' sprang to life around them.

A pair of heavy bolts came my way, and deflecting them nearly knocked the lightsaber I used out of my hand. They hit the nimbus around the other droid, then went zinging off in another direction. I bit back a venomous curse.

"They have shield generators!" I shouted. Had I pissed off some super-powerful entity in a previous incarnation? "Plan _C_, anyone?" As far as I was concerned, negotiating had been Plan A, and hitting the bridge was Plan B. The next round of fire in my direction was met by both of my 'sabers, their powerplants whining as the bolts were cast off to my left.

"Ventilation shafts," Kenobi snapped, grunting as he blocked the following shot. I glanced up to see a grate directly above me, then reached up with my right hand to carve a quick circle in it. But instead of stepping aside and letting the metal fall, I impulsively caught it with my mind, induced a rapid spinning, and hurled the piece of grille at the nearer droid. It tilted before it struck, going straight through the energy field to shear off the 'head' and one arm. What was left slumped to the other side as the shield vanished.

"Go, go, go!" Obi-Wan leapt up into the opening first, followed closely by Master Jinn. Before joining them, I wrapped the Force around the base of the wrecked destroyer and flung it at the other droid. Only then did I propel myself into our impromptu escape route.

We moved through the ducts in silence, using the Force to muffle the sounds of our passage and blind any sensor to our life-signs. It took several minutes to find a decent exit. Another docking bay opened before us, with a stack of crates a few meters from the wall. Qui-Gon let himself drop to the deck quietly, and I made his Padawan precede me. A small gap between a pair of cartons gave us a nice little view while keeping us hidden.

"Battle droids," the kid murmured, watching the tan forms load into hover-transports and gigantic landing craft.

"An invisible army." The words slipped from my lips without my conscious consent as I saw a line of tanks join the droids on the nearest vessel. It was true, though; the less unique and autonomous the droid, the smaller the ripple it made in the Force. There had to be fifty thousand in this bay alone, and I couldn't sense a single one of them.

"It's an odd play for the Trade Federation," the Master commented, stroking his neatly-trimmed beard in thought. "We've got to warn the Naboo and contact Chancellor Valorum." Then he leaned back, looking at us both. "Let's split up. Stow aboard separate ships, and we'll meet up on the surface." It sounded like a sensible plan to me, and I took a moment to fix their Force-signatures in my mind. They had their training bond, and therefore only needed to memorize my signature.

"You were right about one thing, Master," Obi-Wan said as the shadow of a smile tugged at his face. "The negotiations _were_ short." The quip startled a very genuine grin from the taciturn older man, and an amused snort from me.

Then we went our different ways to find suitable hiding places.


	3. Chapter 3

Whispers of Menace

A _Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace_ Alternate Universe

**Chapter Three:**

**Landing and Jar Jar Binks**

I ran through the forest at top speed, boosting the strength of my muscles with the Force as I wove between representatives of several native species. Still, it wasn't enough to let me outrun the droid-piloted scout craft behind me, or the line of tanks sweeping away the trees behind _them_. It seemed like every third straight step turned into a dodge.

If I hadn't been sure of it before, I'd have known right then that I despised battle droids of any kind.

My directional sense quickly fixed on the hastily-memorized Force-signatures of my human comrades. Just off to one side, I could feel Qui-Gon Jinn. His former Master, Yan Dooku, had told me some things about him during our frequent sparring matches; for one, he'd lost a Padawan to the Dark Side. Though he'd been reluctant to take another, Master Dooku claimed that the High Council had all but coerced him into working with young Kenobi, which had resulted in their training bond.

I heard splashes as the trees began to thin, and grabbed the rebreather from my belt, getting it into my mouth just as the water came into view. My headlong flight turned into a shallow dive, and then I was swimming with a number of apparently amphibious creatures.

Obi-Wan Kenobi, I could tell, was a bit further away than his Master. He was about ten years younger than me, and had actually started phasing out of the Order when Jinn finally accepted their bond. Aside from being rumored as one of the best pranksters in the Temple, he was known to be fairly close to his small group of age-mates, though one had distanced herself from the rest.

I shook off the thoughts of the past as I neared Master Qui-Gon, with Kenobi approaching rapidly. The elder Jedi's grim determination and the abject terror of the Force-blind sentient with him urged me to even greater speed as I surged out of the water.

Somehow, I managed to come out of the underbrush right in front of a kriffing droid scout that had started to come about for another strafing run on the pair in the clearing. One swing with a lightsaber removed its legs at the knee joint, along with a large part of its transport. With two of us present, the remaining irritants didn't last long.

"Oyi, mooie mooie!" The words coming from the mouth of the gangly being clambering to its feet next to the Jedi Master sounded like gibberish to me. "My luv yous!"

"Are you brainless?" the man snapped back. "You almost got us killed!" I blinked, taken aback by both his tone of voice and the unusual appearance of our new acquaintance. The creature's torso looked absurdly short compared to its long arms and legs, and the pale golden-orange of its skin with the darker squiggles that had to constitute as camouflage somewhere on the planet only added to the ridiculous picture. Most of all, the long, sinuous neck, dangling ear-flaps with vestigial claws, and the head shaped like a water-bird's except for almost copper eyes on long stalks made the being difficult to take seriously.

"I spake," it replied cautiously.

"The ability to speak does not make you intelligent." It—he—flinched away from my razor-tongued retort. "Go on now, get out of here while you still can."

"No, no!" he protested. "Meesa stayin'… Meesa yous humble servant." He attempted to bow, stumbling and nearly pitching himself face-first into the forest floor.

"That won't be necessary." I could easily understand why Master Jinn wouldn't want the native tagging along, as well as a reason or two of my own. I'd heard some pretty awful manglings of Basic before—Master Yoda came to mind—but this was the worst yet, by far.

"Oh, boot 'tis! 'Tis demunded by da guds," the long-limbed being insisted. "'Tis a live debett, 'tis. Meesa culled Jah Jah Binks."

"We don't have time for this," I growled, feeling danger looming. The faint hum of repulsors echoed through the mist.

"Say what?" Binks' question was answered almost instantly as Obi-Wan hurtled into view, three more droid scouts hot on his heels. "Oh, nooo!" The creature's eyes seemed to actually get larger, and the eyestalks longer. "Weesa gunna—"

The older human body-checked the idiot, knocking him to the ground just before two blaster bolts passed through the space where they'd been standing. "Stay down!" he ordered as his lightsaber reignited.

"—dieeee!" Binks finished, his head popping up, but otherwise doing as he'd been told.

I tried deflecting shots so that they would hit the droids, but success eluded me. The best I could do was graze metal, and my companions were faring little better. Then I managed a double block—from one blade to the other and then to my target—which hit a fuel tank. Bits of shrapnel peppered the clearing, and the droid closest to the explosion dodged straight into a tree. Obi-Wan jumped toward another tree, rebounded off its trunk, and somersaulted, bringing his blade down through the last flyer as he spun.

"Nice," I told him as he straightened from his landing crouch. "Flashy, but nice." The kid's face went pink, and I had to squash a laugh. It wouldn't have helped the situation one bit.

"Excellent timing on both your parts," Qui-Gon added.

"Yousa sav-ed my again!" Binks scrambled to his feet, looking at each of us as though he couldn't decide which to thank first.

"What's _this_?" Kenobi almost sounded like he was saying, 'Oh, not _another_ one…'

"A local," the older man replied, sounding exasperated. "Let's go, before more of those show up."

"Mure? _Mure_, did you spake?" None of us paid any attention to the creature as we turned to leave the clearing. "Ex-_squeeze_ me, but da moto grande safe place would be Otoh Gunga. 'Tis where my growen' up. 'Tis safe city." We all turned to stare at him.

"A city! Can you take us there?" I happily let Master Jinn take charge; he _did_ have something like twenty-five years more experience than I did.

Binks looked down, putting his hands behind his back and kicking at fallen leaves like a youngling who'd been caught misbehaving. "Ahh… well, on secon' tawt… no, not weely."

"'No'?" Uh-oh. The Jedi Master had gone from annoyed to irritated.

"'Tis embarrasin', boot…" He averted his face. "My afrai' my been banished. My forgoten' da Bosses would do tewwible t'ings to my. Tewwible t'ings if my goen' back dere." A glance at my comrades told me how we would get Binks' cooperation.

"Do you hear that?" Qui-Gon asked conversationally, drawing attention to the growing noise of the advancing droid army. The native nodded, trembling.

"That," I purred, deliberately flashing my sharp predator's teeth, "is the sound of a thousand terrible things headed this way." My target flinched.

"When they find us, they will crush us, grind us into little pieces, and then _blast_ us into oblivion!" Obi-Wan looked like he might even be having a bit of _fun_ intimidating the poor creature.

"Oh! Meesa seein' yousa point." Binks suddenly became _most_ agreeable. "Dis way! Huwwy!"


	4. Chapter 4

Aww, I'm getting favorites and follows, but just the one review... Please feed the author!

Whispers of Menace

A _Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace_ Alternate Universe

**Chapter Four:**

**Otoh Gunga and Boss Nass**

Our new guide broke into an awkward lope, and I dropped back a little to observe for a few moments. It appeared that both Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon had run more than a bit already, even by Jedi standards. In fact, by the time we reached the shore of another lake—or maybe a different section of the one I'd been in earlier—the elder of the two was actually a bit short of breath.

"Much farther?" his Padawan asked. Binks looked at him, blinking.

"Weesa goen' unda wadder now, okie-day?" We all nodded, reaching for rebreathers. "My warnin' you," he continued. "Gungans no liken' outlaunders. Don't expect a werm welcome." Obi-Wan grimaced.

"Don't worry, this hasn't been our day for warm welcomes." The creature nodded before turning and jumping into the water. The height he was able to reach was impressive for one who was Force-blind, though the yipping noise and the twisting somersault were just… unnecessary. We waded in right behind him.

The shore turned out to be little more than a small shelf of rock, ending in a sharp drop to a surprisingly distant bottom. As I'd begun to suspect, this was less a lake and more an extension of the world's seas, connected to them by deep underwater caves. The most amazing part, I thought, was the view offered by the very clear water; directly ahead was a collection of far-off bubbles, clustered together and emitting a soft golden glow.

It wasn't a short swim, by any means, but eventually we reached a tongue-like platform extending from one of the larger structures. Our guide touched down and walked forward, simply pushing through the barrier within the confines of a large arch. As I passed through, it felt rather elastic, though it obviously did an excellent job of keeping the water outside and the air inside. Obi-Wan even pushed at it experimentally, making it quiver.

Several Gungans of varying ages had been traversing the walkways around us, but they froze upon seeing us. First one, then many, turned and ran, which I found just a bit odd. The one member of the species we'd already met was rather gregarious.

Heavy steps and the jingle of metal approached, and I turned to see a Gungan mounted on an avioid creature—_kaadu_, my mind supplied. He looked somehow older than our guide, his skin a more subdued brown and tan, with several moustache-like tendrils of flesh hanging down on either side of his mouth, and tattered-looking ears. The three long, thin, striped feathers rising from the back of the saddle waved a bit.

"Heyoo-dalee, Cap'n Tarpals. Meesa back!" Binks said brightly.

"No ahgain, Jar Jar," the other one said, almost groaning. Other kaadu riders in similar garb approached, surrounding us. "Yousa goen' ta da Bosses. Yousa in _big_ doodoo dis time." With that, we found ourselves being herded along, presumably to see these mysterious 'Bosses.'

One of the guards decided that Binks needed extra incentive to move; the spear-like implement he extended buzzed before delivering a charge to Jar Jar's rear. He yelped, rubbing the spot.

"How wude."

"Yousa cannot bees hair." Why was I not surprised to find that the Bosses were a group of grossly overweight, sumptuously-dressed Gungans? Prone to denial, too, as their ringleader, Boss Nass, was demonstrating. "Dis arrr-my of mackineeks up dere 'tis new weeson!"

"That droid army is about to attack the Naboo," Qui-Gon argued. "We must warn them."

"Weesa no liken' da Naboo!" Nass countered. "Un dey no liken' uss-uns. Dey t'ink dey brrrrains so big." Speciesist prejudices, just wonderful. This was _not_ helpful.

"After those droids take control of the surface," I said firmly, "they _will_ come here and take control of _you_." This delay was certainly going to make our mission more difficult.

"No, mesa no t'ink so." There was a note of smug amusement in Boss Nass' voice. "Weesa scant talkie wit da Naboo, and no nutten talkie wit outlaunders. Dose mackineeks no comen' hair! Dey not knowen' of uss-uns." Oh joy, they were isolationists, too.

"You and the Naboo form a symbiont circle," Obi-Wan pressed. "What happens to one of you _will_ affect the other. You _must_ understand this."

"Weesa wish no nutten in yousa t'ings," the Gungan insisted. "And weesa no caren' 'bout da Naboo." I could have cheerfully punched him, right then and there.

"Then speed us on our way." I almost missed the slight movement of the Jedi Master's fingers.

"Weesa gonna speed yous away," Nass echoed agreeably. Another subtle mind-trick procured something called a 'bongo' for our use and a general direction: through the planet's core.

"Deysa setten' yous up," Jar Jar informed us in a low voice as we turned to leave. He looked supremely sorry for himself, with his wrists in binders and a guard on either side. "Goen' t'roo da planet core is bad bomben'."

"Yes, we'd figured that out," I murmured back. Boss Nass' malicious chuckle when he gave us the direction had been clue enough.

"Ah… any he'p hair wud be nice," he added apologetically. Kenobi turned a reproachful gaze on his Master.

"We'll need a navigator," the older human said before facing the Bosses again. "What is to become of Jar Jar Binks?"

"Binks is broken' da no-cum-backie law. Heesen ta be a' _pyoo_-nished," Nass replied with a leer. He must have seen the 'how?' on one of our faces. "Pounded… unto deat'." A quiet chuckle rippled around the room. Any idiot should have been able to guess what would come next.

"I have saved Jar Jar Binks' life. He owes me what you call a 'life debt.'" The glare that several Bosses directed at the orange klutz was startling.

"Binks. Yousa haven' a liveplay wit disen hisen?" The only reply to Nass' question was a rapid nod. Qui-Gon's fingers flickered again.

"Your gods demand that his life belongs to me now." Well, that was how most life-debts worked.

"Hisen live, 'tis yo's, outlaunder." Nass certainly didn't seem reluctant to get rid of Jar Jar by whatever means possible. "Begone wit him!" We turned again, and I grabbed the Gungan's arm to make sure he kept up with us.

"Count meesa outta dis!" His protest echoed through the next room. "Bettah dead hair dan deader in da core!" Then he paused as his own words penetrated his thick skull. "Ye guds, whatta mesa sayen'?!" Now he was only too glad to lead us to our bongo…

Whatever _that_ was.


	5. Chapter 5

Whispers of Menace

A _Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace_ Alternate Universe

**Chapter Five:**

**The Planet Core**

The triangular vessel squirted through yet another of the Gungans' flexible, semi-permeable fields and into open water as I tried not to feel _too_ squashed in the rear seat that I was sharing with Qui-Gon. I doubted that the bongo was designed for three adults, let alone the four we had just barely managed to accommodate.

"Dis is nutsen," Jar Jar muttered as we left the gentle glow of Otoh Gunga's lights behind. He was certainly not a happy camper.

"Master," Obi-Wan asked, almost whining, "why do you keep dragging these pathetic life-forms along with us?" The he pushed the control yoke toward the life-form in question. "Here, take over."

"Heyo? Where weesa goen'?"

"_You're_ the one who's supposed to be navigating," I pointed out.

"Yousa dreamen', mesa hopen'." I groaned, putting a hand over my eyes. This day just kept getting worse.

"Just relax," Master Jinn said soothingly. I got the sense that the comment wasn't just for Binks. "The Force will guide us."

"Ooo, maxibig, 'da Force.' Wellen, dat smells stinkowiff." Obviously, he didn't believe as we did.

For a long while, silence reigned inside the cramped cockpit. Then the Padawan fixed the Gungan with a curious look.

"Jar Jar, _why_ were you banished?" Good question. It couldn't be the accent, which appeared to be common to his species.

"'Tis a wong tale, butta small part woulda be meesa, ah, ah… cwumsy." I groaned again.

"They banished you because you're _clumsy_?" Obi-Wan didn't seem to understand how that would be a bad thing in a place like Otoh Gunga. I could think of a few reasons: the possibility of damaging equipment vital to maintaining force fields, injuring others in mishaps…

"Meesa caus-ed maybe one or duey littal bitty axadentes," Jar Jar elaborated. "Yud say, boom da gasser, un crash der Bosses' heyblibber, den banished." Our ersatz navigator threw up his hands for emphasis just as a crash sounded from the aft port quarter of the small ship.

I glanced over my shoulder to see the dim shape of a giant crustacean behind the clear outline of a large, fleshy appendage, stuck to our vessel.

"Full speed ahead," Qui-Gon ordered. However, thanks to our resident klutz, we went backwards, straight into the creature's mouth. Kenobi quickly yanked the controls out of Binks' hands, and there was a brief screech of rending metal before we were free. As we sped away, I got a brief glimpse of a much larger aquatic denizen gulping down our attacker.

"There's always a bigger fish," my seatmate said, meeting my eyes with a wry grin. Then the lights flickered, and I heard water trickling in as the turbine died. Obi-Wan leaned forward, popping open a panel as we drifted to a halt on a rock ledge. Wires sparked as he tried to bypass the problem. Jar Jar, though, was freaking out.

"Stay calm," I told him. "We're not in trouble yet."

"_What_ 'yet'?" he protested. "Monstairs out dere, leaken' in hair, all'n sinken', un nooo powah! WHEN YOUSA T'INK WEESA IN TWUBBLE?!" To the accompaniment of a slight whir, the younger human smiled.

"Power's back." The forward spotlight came up and illuminated a narrow-snouted predator right in front of us.

"Monstairs back!" The creature drew back, spots on its side flaring into a cold blue light. Calmly, Obi-Wan pushed the bongo into a hard right and opened up the throttle. "Weesa in twubble _now_?" Qui-Gon reached forward to touch Binks' shoulder.

"Relax." He reinforced the command with a brush of the Force. The orange-skinned being slumped, completely limp.

"You overdid it," the Padawan accused. I disagreed, but most of the kid's attention was on evading the flatfish we'd startled. "This is not good!" Out of the corner of one eye, I spotted the beast that had munched on our crustacean, or one just like it. For a moment, it seemed to be aiming at us, but its path crossed ours just after we had gotten clear. Jar Jar woke up as the flatfish went down its gullet.

"Weesa dead yet?" He looked past me, eyes bugging out. "Oie boie!" Then he was out cold again.

"Head for that outcropping," Master Jinn directed.

As the voyage continued, the three of us worked on a strategy. Obviously, the Trade Federation wasn't interested in negotiating with anyone, not even the Chancellor's emissaries. That left us two options: give up, or approach Naboo's elected Queen and get her to present her people's side of things directly to the Senate.

And Jedi don't give up.

It took time, but we finally settled the details as we approached the planet's capital city of Theed. The battered little vessel bobbed to the surface of the river with the sun near zenith, a day after our arrival in the system. Buildings crowded both banks, separated from the water by wide stone walkways.

As soon as the force field over the cockpit was deactivated, I stood and stretched, feeling several joints pop. I looked back at the ship's rear. The turbine's streamer-like blades were no longer moving, but there was still a rushing noise…

Then I saw the drop-off.

"Weesa safe now," Jar Jar sighed with relief. As I reached for Master Jinn both physically and through the Force, I marveled that someone so unobservant had survived on his own at all.

"Get this thing started," Qui-Gon ordered as he, too, saw the waterfall. I dove headfirst into the front seat, my montrals briefly hitting the console as I started working through the wiring mess that had helped before. _Something_ had to have some power left that could be rerouted to the engine.

"Dissen berry good, hey?" If I hadn't had my hands full of electrical bits, I would have hit Binks. Hard.

"What is it?" Obi-Wan pulled himself out of the cockpit and looked back, answering his own question. "Kriff." From the corner of my eye, I saw his Master's disapproving look for the swearword.

"_What_?! Oie boie!" I found a live lead, quickly connecting it to the engine circuits and getting the turbine spinning again. The ginger-haired youth reached down to carefully steer us closer to one walkway. Then his mentor took careful aim with a cable gun.

"Iyiiyi, weesa dyin' hair, hey!"

"Shut _up_," I growled, managing to catch Binks' shoulder with one boot in lieu of a fist. The cable gun's discharge coincided with a cough from the engine as the new power source began to fail. A faint but reassuring 'clink' reached my hearing just before Qui-Gon looped his end around an exposed structural member.

"Come on!" he called, and I gladly pulled myself out of the wiring chaos. Obi-Wan beat me to the lifeline, and I let him get a few meters out before starting my own crossing.

"Come _on_, Jar Jar," I heard the Jedi Master say as I hung below the cable and pulled myself along.

"No! Too scawy!" Klutz, blind, _and_ cowardly? Fan_tas_tic.

"Get up here!" The Padawan reached for the railing as he shouted. Then I realized that the cable was swinging closer to the artificial shore, which meant that the bongo could go over the waterfall at any moment.

"Get up on the cable, you frakking ninny!" I wasn't a Padawan anymore, so I could get away with the mild profanity.

"No, a mighty no!" I caught the sturdy metal railing, using the Force to flip myself over it as I looked back. Qui-Gon was more than halfway across, leaving Jar Jar alone on the tiny ship. Then the bonehead realized the danger he was in. "Oie boie… Meesa comen'!"

Obi-Wan shot me a questioning glance as I began straightening my tunic and tabards underneath the knapsack's straps, and I nodded back. I'd sealed the waterproof lining even before we'd gotten to the Trade Federation ship; a little climb like that wouldn't have dislodged anything.

Master Jinn joined us, managing to twitch his robes back into place before I'd finished with mine. I had half again as many panels to deal with, but that wasn't fair… The trick smacked of Master Dooku, and I made a mental note to wheedle it out of Qui-Gon's mentor once we got home. As though he'd heard the thought, he looked up at me, a twinkle in his blue eyes and a tiny smile tugging at his mouth.

"That was close," the younger human said with a sigh.

"Drop your weapons!" The familiar vocoder timbre made me roll my eyes. Battle droids had spotted us, probably on their patrols. My knees flexed as I prepared to fight the ones that had found us.

Binks clambered over the edge of the walkway and clumsily rose to his feet.

"I _said_, drop your weapons!" The programmers had made at least one mistake: drawing weapons on members of the Order had become known as 'suicide by Jedi.' A single green blade came to life.

The droid's first two shots were easily deflected, the third going so wide that Qui-Gon didn't even bother trying to redirect it. By then, he was turning the electromagnetic menace into scrap.

A sudden loud 'thwang' caused us all to turn and look. Somehow, the droid's third shot had struck the cable, and now the bongo was slowly going over the waterfall. The prow rose from the water briefly before the vessel succumbed to gravity. A moment later, a muffled explosion announced its demise beneath the sound of rushing water.

"Whoa…" I couldn't tell whether Jar Jar was awed, overwhelmed, or just scared out of his tiny little mind. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan didn't even pause before heading down the nearest narrow street, so I seized the Gungan's arm and dragged him after them.


	6. Chapter 6

Whispers of Menace

A _Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace_ Alternate Universe

**Chapter Six:**

**Surprise Rescue and Running the Blockade**

Theed proved to be a city of many tiers, the roads at ground level apparently intended for deliveries of all kinds. Bridges and walkways arched across the gaps, casting more shadows on the lowest paths.

As soon as Obi-Wan found a public access to the higher areas, we moved to the third level, ten meters or more above the cobblestones. I dropped back each time we came to a bridge, waiting for the humans to give the 'all clear' before making my crossing. My montrals rose nearly twenty centimeters higher from my eyes than the tops of their heads did from their own eyes. No peering over railings and around corners for me.

We were across a plaza from the largest building in the city—I figured it was probably the palace—when Kenobi spotted one of the people we needed to speak with: Queen Amidala. He and Qui-Gon couldn't tell if any of the Nemoidians watching the group was Nute Gunray, but the small human entourage guaranteed that the elaborately gowned young woman was the monarch. Five other young women wearing simpler and identical hooded dresses surrounded her, along with five Naboo guards and some prominent local. A dozen battle droids were herding them along, though the Queen's carriage made it seem that _she_ was the one giving orders.

Timing was crucial; we had to wait until the group was a mere two meters from the bridge we crouched upon. Then we leapt into action.

I focused on the droids closest to the young women, landing on the nearest one hard enough to shear apart the waist and neck joints. Another lost its head to one of my lightsabers, and I sliced a third droid right down the middle. I destroyed a fourth just as Jar Jar tumbled from the bridge onto the last mechanical menace, quite literally making it go to pieces.

"Yousa guys bombad!" he cheered, trying to extricate himself from the tangled remains. I ignored him, gently but quickly guiding the girls—I could swear that they were all in their mid-teens—into a shadow-filled alley nearby. The rest of the group followed, even the blasted Gungan. My comrades and I bowed briefly to the petite ruler.

"Your Highness," Qui-Gon began, "we are the ambassadors for the Supreme Chancellor."

"Your negotiations seem to have failed." The gray-haired politician's accusation was bitter. I could certainly understand the sentiment, as he was likely upset and disoriented from the long blockade, sudden invasion, and being taken prisoner.

"The negotiations never took place." I kept my voice calm and level. "The diplomatic cruiser that brought us here was destroyed, and the Trade Federation _tried_ to kill us." My focus moved back to the Queen, her face made up in white with a bit of red, her gown in mourning black. "Your Highness, we _must_ make contact with the Republic."

"They've knocked out all our communications." This came from the man whose uniform indicated that he commanded the other four guardsmen. He, too, was upset, but in a much angrier way.

"Do you have transports?" Master Jinn's stance said that he was as eager to leave the system as I was.

"In the main hangar," the guard commander replied. "This way." We moved off at a decent jog, the Queen and her handmaidens lifting their skirts to move faster with less chance of tripping. As we went, I got a better look at most of the girls; one had bright blue eyes, while the others shared dark brown ones, including the young monarch. Their facial characteristics were very similar, making me suspect that they might play a shell game with who wore the Queen's trappings.

The commander led us to a side door of the palace. The klaxons were sounding the alarm before anyone approached the entry, meaning that someone had seen our little rescue out front. So droids would be actively searching for us, making our escape a little more difficult.

Still, the commander, who introduced himself as Captain Panaka, was able to guide us through the corridors without encountering any of the mechanical fiends. We stopped at a relatively small, old-fashioned door—the kind with hinges. Opening it just a bit, Panaka and Qui-Gon crowded together to assess the situation.

"There are too many of them," the captain muttered, probably referring to battle droids.

"That won't be a problem." The Jedi Master turned to face the youthful sovereign. "Your Highness, under the circumstances, I suggest you come to Coruscant with us." I watched her face, noting that her eyes darted toward one of the handmaidens.

"Thank you, Ambassador." Her voice was formal and resonant. "But my place is here, with my people."

"They _will_ kill you if you stay," Obi-Wan pointed out, his tone hushed but urgent.

"They wouldn't dare!" the politician spluttered in outrage.

"They need her to sign a treaty to make this invasion of theirs legal," Panaka added. "They can't afford to kill her." The bad feeling that had started on the Trade Federation's flagship ratcheted up several notches, and I shuddered. If I'd had hair, it would have been standing on end.

"The situation here is not what it seems." Qui-Gon shook his head. "There is something else behind all this, Your Highness. There is no logic in the Federation's move here." I fixed my own stare on the Queen and her handmaidens.

"My feelings tell me they will destroy you." I tried to project how deadly serious I was about this. "All of you, if they decide it's necessary."

"Please, Your Highness, reconsider." Apparently I'd gotten through to the older man. "Our only hope now is for the Senate to side with us." He paused. "Senator Palpatine will need your help."

"Getting past their blockade is impossible, Your Highness," the captain argued. "Any attempt to escape will be dangerous.

The exchange made me think of a one-on-one blastball game. Amidala seemed torn between her options.

"Your Highness, I will stay here and do what I can," the politician promised. "They will have to retain the Council of Governors to maintain control. But you _must_ leave."

The Queen turned to a pair of handmaidens—the blue-eyed one and the one she'd glanced at before. "Either choice presents a great risk… to all of us." The shell game theory was looking more likely by the second.

"We are brave, Your Highness," the brown-eyed girl responded confidently.

"If you are to leave, it must be _now_." She stood a better chance of surviving the escape with three Jedi along.

"Then I will plead our case before the Senate," the young ruler declared after another quick look at the handmaiden who'd spoken. "Be careful, Governor." The portly man bowed and disappeared down the corridor while the rest of us carefully slipped through the door.

A pair of large columns provided cover, as though they'd been placed to hide the door from casual observers. Two platoons of droids were there, ten standing guard around a sleek, chromed star cruiser, fifteen patrolling around a dozen yellow-and-chrome starfighters, and the remainder watching a group of humans who appeared to be the vessels' pilots and crew.

"We need to free those pilots," Panaka murmured.

"I'll take care of that." Obi-Wan was quick to volunteer, but he paused when I put a hand on one of his shoulders.

"Let me take out some of the patrollers, first. Create some confusion." I smirked.

"Just you against all those droids?" a guard asked.

"Who said I was going out there? Being a Jedi isn't all lightsaber duels and levitation." I wouldn't fault him for the assumption, though; in my experience, it was all too common.

I closed my eyes and drew in a deep breath, centering myself. Then, on the exhale, I mentally reached for the most distant droid I could affect and caused a short in its power core, instantaneously frying all its circuits. The clatter as its smoking remains fell drew the attention of the rest of the patrollers and several other droids.

As they grouped together, I was able to manipulate more of them with each pulse of Force energy sent skittering though their systems. The Federation wouldn't be able to simply repair them; every board and motivator would have to be melted down and replaced.

A small jolt of pain ran up my extended arm, signaling that I was reaching the limits of my Force abilities. I released Kenobi's shoulder, and he correctly interpreted it as a signal to start his own assault. His pale blue lightsaber moved swiftly, felling the droids that had maintained their positions around the seated Naboo.

Master Jinn's plan quickly became apparent, as he walked right up to the droid nearest the cruiser's boarding ramp. I followed with the girls and the guards, stopping when the hunk of junk reacted to the Jedi Master's approach.

"Where are you going?"

"I am the ambassador for the Supreme Chancellor," Qui-Gon announced with a serene dignity. "I am taking these people to Coruscant."

"Uh, Coruscant…" The droid's slim head turned from side to side. "Uh, ah… Does not compute." It raised its blaster to point at the tall human's chest. "You're under arrest!"

Now we had no option but to fight. I did my best to shield our 'precious cargo' from enemy fire, but it didn't last long—partly because the mechanicals lacked real intelligence. Fatigue crept up on me as I followed the humans and one terrified Gungan into the cruiser. I'd really pushed myself dangerously close to burnout. Since my Knighting, I could count such occasions on one hand.

I was going to need sleep as soon as I could be spared.

Two fighters rocketed out of the hangar, presumably to clear a route for the larger vessel, but they didn't stand a chance against the defense cannons that bracketed the doors—weapons the Naboo had put in to protect their ships, now operated by their enemies. Fortunately, the cruiser had been right behind the smaller craft, and we got out of range before the cannons could recalibrate for the larger target.

We left the atmosphere behind, and the first thing I noticed was that most of the Federation's ships had left. One of the remaining vessels likely housed the equipment that controlled their minions on the surface. We were far from safe, though, because dozens of fighter-like droids popped away from the hulls to pursue us. I headed for the cockpit, hoping I could help with the shields, the weapons, or _something_… as long as they didn't ask me to take the pilot's seat.

"…our communications are still jammed." Thank the Force, there was already someone at the helm. Kenobi was seated in front of shield and navigation displays, but there wasn't a weapons station. I winced, knowing that being unarmed made our escape even more hazardous. Qui-Gon was hovering, so I leaned against the side of the hatch and tried to keep from using the Force anywhere but within my own body.

A sudden thump and shiver accompanied what had to be a direct hit. Which meant that…

"We've lost power to the shield generator." At least it wasn't the generator itself; power lines could be spliced or rerouted. Obi-Wan sounded more nervous about the situation than I could muster energy for.

"Deploying droids," the pilot responded. "I hope they can do _something_, or we're done for." I closed my eyes, using my passive Force-senses to feel the repair droids.

Most of them were ordinary R2 and R5 model astromechs, but one of the R2s was significantly different. It almost had a Force-presence of its own, more like waves than ripples. I got a sensation of history and experience from it; for all I knew, it might not have had its memory wiped since it left the factory that built it.

One by one, the other droids were blasted away from the open maintenance panel on the outer hull. Then only the peculiar one remained, working rapidly. A few moments later, the ship's audible hum changed pitch.

"Power's back!" The pilot grinned broadly. "That little droid did it; he bypassed the main power supply! Deflector shield is now up, at maximum."

The cruiser accelerated rapidly, streaking past the last few droids. However, I began to detect a faint but familiar acrid reek.

"There's not enough power to get us to Coruscant." This came from the room's third station, which was probably maintenance and damage control. "The hyperdrive is leaking." That only confirmed what my nose had told me.

"We'll have to land somewhere to repair and refuel the ship." Qui-Gon leaned over his Padawan's shoulder to examine the star chart. I could think of only one nearby system that might have the parts we needed without being under the Trade Federation's control.

"Here, Master. Tatooine." I nodded to myself as Captain Panaka joined me at the door. "It's small, out of the way, poor… The Trade Federation has no presence there."

"How can you be sure?" The guard commander sounded rather pessimistic.

"Because it offers them nothing they're interested in," I answered slowly. "It's a Force-forsaken rock that only exports sand and nasty attitudes." And slaves. Master Sifo-Dyas and I had been given a mission there about fifteen years earlier. The number of slaves—roughly half the population—had made it so difficult to control my temper that Master had formally requested that the Council would not send me there by myself, at the very least, and preferably not at all.

So much for _that_.

"It's controlled by the Hutts," Master Jinn added.

"The _Hutts_?!" I'd no idea that dark-skinned humans could become as pale as Panaka did then.

"It's risky," Obi-Wan acknowledged, "but there's no alternative."

"You can't take Her Royal Highness there!" The captain continued to protest. "The Hutts are gangsters; if they discovered her…" He left the sentence hanging, as we could easily guess the outcome of that possibility.

"It would be no different than if we landed in a system controlled by the Federation, except that the Hutts aren't _looking_ for her, which gives us an advantage." Panaka reluctantly conceded Qui-Gon's point, and Obi-Wan fed the information into the navicomp. The stars turned into streaks, then the whirling of hyperspace. We weren't going very fast, I knew, but we wouldn't be in transit long, either.

But before I could find a place to curl up and sleep, I was all but dragged to the Queen's audience chamber. I couldn't help being a little shocked that a ship this size actually had space for such a thing. Only three of the handmaidens, including the blue-eyed one, were present.

"An extremely well put-together little droid. Without a doubt, it saved the ship and our lives." Captain Panaka gestured toward a blue-and-white R2 unit that was filthy from its harrowing ordeal outside the hull. Now that I was closer, I felt even more certain that it had a history that it remembered and a personality of its own.

"It is to be commended," the Queen intoned. "What is its designation?" The guard commander leaned over to wipe part of the dome clean.

"R2-D2, Your Highness." The D2 meant that the droid could be as much as twenty years old. I would _really_ like to get a chance to talk to the astromech.

"Thank you, Artoo-Deetoo. You have proven to be very loyal. Padmé," she added, looking at one of the handmaidens, "clean up this droid the best you can. It deserves our gratitude. Continue, Captain." Qui-Gon stepped in to explain where we were going and why, followed quickly by Panaka's disapproval.

"You _must_ trust my judgment, Your Highness." A significant glance passed between Padmé and the Queen before the ordinary-looking girl led the droid away. Rather than stick around and risk falling asleep on my feet, I followed the pair.

In a multi-purpose area on the lower deck, I curled up in the curve of a sofa-like alcove as the young woman found some clean rags and started wiping the worst grime off of Artoo's otherwise-neat paint job. She talked to the astromech softly as she worked, and I started to drift off.

"Hidoe!" The unmistakable voice was accompanied by a brief scream and a series of indignant bleeps and whistles. "Sowwy, no meanen' ta skeer yousa." I threw an arm across my eyes in exasperation. The brief interlude without Jar Jar had been nice.

"That's all right," Padmé answered.

"My 'scovered oily back dere. Needen' it?"

"Thank you. This little guy is quite a mess."

"Meesa Jah Jah Binks."

"I'm Padmé, I attend Her Highness." I closed my eyes again, trying to ignore them all and get to sleep. "You're a Gungan, aren't you? How did you end up here, with us?"

"Me no know. Meesa day starten' pitty okie-day wit da brisky mornen' munchen'. Den, boom… getten' berry skeered, un grabbed dat Jedi, an' before meesa knowen' it, pow! Meesa hair. Getten' berry, _berry_ skeered."

The sympathetic tweets of the astromech were the last thing I remembered.


	7. Chapter 7

Whispers of Menace

A _Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace_ Alternate Universe

**Chapter Seven:**

**Tatooine and Watto's Shop**

I woke up abruptly, though fully rested, and for a very brief moment wondered what had changed. Then I realized that the Naboo cruiser's vibration had altered. It wouldn't have roused a human unless they were very in tune with machines, but between my Jedi training and the heightened senses my species had gained by evolving montrals, dropping out of hyperspace could wake me from a dead sleep unless it was something I had been expecting at a certain time. With that, I could 'tell' my body to ignore the stimulus, but the damage from the Trade Federation's droids made the chromed ship's speed rather unpredictable. So I got up, straightened my robes, and headed for the cockpit.

"That's it, Tatooine," Qui-Gon was saying when I entered. A yellow-brown globe grew in the viewscreen.

"There's a settlement." Obi-Wan pointed. "A spaceport, it looks like."

"Not a lot of those here," I added. Then I peered more closely at the screen. "That looks to be Mos Espa; that lighter-colored area to its east is the North Dune Sea. Probably the best place to find replacement parts that'll actually _work_." Master Jinn arched an eyebrow at me, and I muttered my personal opinion of the place. "Despite being two-thirds slaves." There was just one thing I truly hated, and that was the uncivilized practice of using other sentients as little more than beasts of burden.

"Land near the outskirts, but put a dune between the ship and the city," the Jedi Master instructed. "We don't want to attract attention."

Obi-Wan stood, allowing the pilot to take over, and he and I headed for the mechanical compartment. I shucked most of my clothing, getting down to the inner tunic and trousers before laying on the deck to look into the lower portion of the vessel's workings. From there, I could easily trace the long crack in the tank for hyperdrive fluid.

"Got a welder up there?" After a moment, a handheld model and a pair of protective goggles floated down to me. "Thanks." Now I could seal the tank up and knock one item off our shopping list. It wasn't a permanent fix, but it would hold at least long enough to get to Coruscant, maybe longer.

That done, I shifted my focus to the motivator and generator, and my spirits fell. Three-quarters of the delicate circuitry was so badly fried that I couldn't tell which charred lump was supposed to be a resistor, transistor, capacitor… And it was a Nubian J-type drive, though I wasn't sure which model, so it would be hideously expensive to replace. I hoped someone had a working one stashed in their used parts lot.

"Obi-Wan, sir, pleeeease, no meesa go!" I nearly banged my montrals on the bulkhead at Binks' wail.

"Sorry," the young human apologized, though he didn't sound it at all. "Qui-Gon's right. You'll make things less obvious."

Kriff. With Jar Jar's propensity for trouble, he'd make us _more_ obvious. I crawled out of the access panel just in time to see the older Jedi walk in.

"The hyperdrive generator's gone," Kenobi told his Master. "We'll need a new one."

"Motivator, too. They're both half slagged," I added. The tall man nodded, then moved closer and spoke quietly.

"Don't let them send _any_ transmissions," he ordered. "And be wary. I'm sensing that disturbance of yours, Serra." I suppressed a shudder. The increasingly frequent brushes of Dark Side energy against my shields made me feel utterly filthy.

"I've been feeling it as well, Master." Obi-Wan shot me a worried look, then arched an eyebrow. "Quartermasters aren't going to be terribly happy with you." I glanced down.

"Oh, for the love of the Light." Stains again. And few of the Jedi based out of the Great Temple on Coruscant wore _colors_. Blue was one of the rarest hues, and though gray trews weren't that uncommon, I usually wore coveralls when I planned on doing some mechanical work that could get messy. "Just… give me a few minutes."

Grumbling to myself, I collected the rest of my clothing and my rucksack, then got directions to a roomy 'fresher where I could change.

I emerged only to step back, avoiding a collision with Padmé and Captain Panaka, who were arguing fiercely.

"I'm _going_, Panaka, and that's final!"

"But what if—"

"I'll accompany Her Highness, if that will ease your mind, Captain," I offered. Their startled expressions confirmed that the visually unremarkable girl was the true Amidala. Then she smiled a bit smugly at her security chief, daring him to turn me down. Instead, the man sighed, shook his head, and turned away. Padmé and I headed for the boarding ramp.

"Master Jinn headed out five minutes ago. You're not going to disguise yourself, like he did?" I shook my head and started unwinding the soft gray cloth around my headtails.

"People expect Jedi to wear shades of brown," I explained. "But here, colors that don't blend into the terrain often indicate that the wearer is well-off, financially, politically, or both. And there's a sizeable transient population, so no one really notices your style of dress." Rather than tucking the long scarf into my bag, I wrapped it around my waist, mostly concealing my belt. "All I really need to do is keep my lightsabers out of sight. Besides, we match." She looked down at her own blue and gray ensemble and laughed.

"So you've been here before?"

"When I was twenty, on a mission. I don't mind the climate, my family's home on Shili isn't much cooler, but some of the denizens could try my patience easier than I can Force-lift a feather."

Catching sight of Qui-Gon, Binks, and R2-D2, we both jogged to join them. The Gungan wore his usual confused expression, but the human was clearly irritated. The droid, though, tweeted happily at us. Padmé lifted her chin as she met a blue stare.

"Her Highness wishes me to see more of this planet, so that Naboo might know more about its neighbors." She'd come up with an eminently reasonable argument.

"And I was asked to protect her, Master, so that you won't have to split your attention." He glowered, but sighed in resignation.

"I don't have time to argue, but this is _not_ a good idea. Stay close to me." I looked at the other female and rolled my eyes once he'd turned back around.

"Dese suns doen' murdah ta da skin," Binks whined. He couldn't have been outside for more than fifteen minutes, though, so I mentally blamed at least part of my comrade's foul mood on the pathetic life-form.

As we walked, I began explaining more about Tatooine to Padmé. She soaked up the information like a dry sponge, then all but begged for more, and I found myself recounting some of my previous missions that, in hindsight, were amusing. The conversation made the lengthy walk into Mos Espa far more pleasant.

Then we were in the city proper, surrounded by a plethora of sentient species, speeders of all sorts, even rontos and dewbacks, the native muscle-power. The towering rontos were frequently under the very watchful eyes of their diminutive Jawa owners.

"Dissen berry, berry bad." The comment came from behind me, followed by a squishing sound that had me smothering a laugh; Jar Jar had stepped into a fresh dewback patty that the rest of us had avoided. "Ooooh… icky… icky… goo…"

The junk dealers' district was easy to find, and the discarded bits and pieces of equipment had my fingers itching. They just begged to be tinkered with, but we had more important things to do.

"We'll try one of the smaller dealers," our leader decided, turning to one storefront. Several hulls were visible behind the building.

The interior was not neat—few used parts shops are—but it _was_ relatively organized. Several types of battered but apparently functional droid lined the walls, the smallest ones up on shelves. A pudgy blue Toydarian flapped up to us.

"[Whadda ya want?]" he asked in Huttese. I bristled at his rudeness.

"I need parts for a J-type 327 Nubian hyperdrive," Qui-Gon replied. So that was the model.

"Ah yes, ah yes. Nubian. We have lots of that. What kinda junk?" The shop owner's Basic was heavily accented and gruff. Then he looked over his shoulder. "[Boy, get in here! Now!]" His attention returned to Master Jinn.

"My droid here has a readout of what I need." Anything else he might have said was interrupted as a small human boy with disheveled hair the color of straw ran in. The kid was grimy, his clothes just about ready for the rag bin, and he halted immediately with a flinch when the Toydarian raised a hand in his direction.

"[What took you so long?]" the flier snapped.

"[I was cleaning the bin like you—]"

"[Never mind! Watch the store.]" I frowned. Between the shop owner's attitude and the boy's behavior, I suspected that the young human was a slave. Few free younglings his age—he couldn't be more than ten—would be working like this. "[I've got some selling to do here,]" the Toydarian continued. Then he returned his attention to his customer. "Sooo, let me take-a you out back. Ni, you'll find what you need." Master Jinn looked at me.

"If you find anything, I can come inspect it," I said distractedly. Something about the boy was tugging at me, and I wanted to stay inside and figure it out.

"Don't touch anything," the tall Jedi warned Jar Jar, taking something out of the klutz's hands and returning it to a shelf. Once he'd turned his back, though, Binks made a rude face at him. I reached over and flicked one of his long ears hard, making him jump.

"_Behave_." He frowned at my growl and sat, leaning against an empty patch of wall.

Then I noticed how intensely the boy's gaze had focused on Padmé. She blushed a bit under his scrutiny, but managed a smile. I opened my senses wide.

The Force swirled around the room, as strongly as I'd felt It in such a small space. Destiny was brewing before me; I had been guided here specifically for the youngling. Not one word had passed between us, yet I could feel a bond forming, similar to yet subtly different from the training bond I'd shared with my own Master. Nor was I the only one who had been drawn to him, because his connection to the young Queen-in-disguise could be cut with a vibro-knife.

"Are you an angel?" The question startled me almost as much as it did Padmé.

"What?"

"An angel. I've heard the deep-space pilots talk about them." Ah, _now_ I knew what he meant. "They're the most beautiful creatures in the universe. They live on the moons of Iego, I think."

"You're a funny little boy," she replied, even more pink from the compliment. "How do you know so much?" He almost bristled at being labeled 'little,' but kept his cool.

"I listen to all the traders and star pilots who come through here." He paused, his vivid blue eyes alight. "I'm a pilot, you know, and someday I'm gonna fly away from this place."

_~'Someday' is coming a lot sooner than you might have thought.~_ I kept that well behind my shields, not wanting to frighten him if he could hear me.

"You're a pilot?" Padmé didn't seem to realize, as I did, that a Force-sensitive drawn to piloting would start learning to fly about the time he learned to walk. Of course, she probably had no idea he was Force-sensitive, either.

"Mm-hm. All my life," he replied casually.

"How long have you been here?" Now, maybe, I'd find out if my guess was right.

"Since I was very little. Three, I think. My mom and I were sold to Gardulla the Hutt, but she lost us, betting on the podraces, to Watto." Hutts. Of course the Hutts would be involved. They were only the most rapacious market for slaves in the galaxy.

"You're a slave?" The young woman sounded startled, but it was unlikely that she'd been exposed to the foul institution before now.

"I'm a _person_, and my name is Anakin." That sounded like bruised pride, and he had a right to be upset.

"I'm sorry," Padmé apologized immediately. "I don't fully understand." She looked around. "This is a strange world to me."

"You're a strange girl to _me_," Anakin retorted. A sudden banging and a long string of binary drew us all from the impending conflict.

Jar Jar hadn't been able to sit in one spot and keep his hands to himself. Now he held the saucer-shaped head of a little droid at arms' length as it struggled.

"Hit the nose!" It sounded like this sort of situation had occurred more than a few times and the boy had needed to tell people how to deactivate that model. When Binks obeyed, it curled up into a much smaller package.

"Can you not follow instructions?" I asked, sniping at the Gungan. "You were told not to touch anything. Now sit down and _stay put_." I pointed back to where he'd been before. I swore he _flounced_ as he obeyed.

"So why isn't your mother tending the store?" Anakin shrugged at my polite inquiry.

"Mom doesn't know the first thing about parts. I may not be able to move a lot of it, but I know what's what."

"I can see why that's important," the girl commented.

"Yeah, well, we wouldn't have lasted long if I weren't so good at fixing things. I'm making my own droid…" The little blond trailed off as Qui-Gon and Watto returned, the Jedi obviously not happy.

"We're leaving," he snapped. Jar Jar was up immediately to follow him.

"I'm glad I met you, ah…" Ooops, she'd missed his name earlier.

"Anakin," he prompted, not upset in the least. "Anakin Skywalker." The Force buzzed through me, almost happy.

"Padmé Naberrie," the brunette responded with a little smile.

"And I'm Serra Ti," I told him with a wink and a hand on his shoulder. "We'll meet again." And then I joined the others outside.


	8. Chapter 8

Whispers of Menace

A _Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace_ Alternate Universe

**Chapter Eight:**

**Fateful Meetings and Dinner Conversation**

Our little band of five had stopped in a niche between buildings. The suns were well past zenith; we'd gone from shop to shop all day with no luck. Only Watto had what we needed, it seemed, and he wouldn't take Republic credits. My collection of precious metal ingots was nowhere near enough to foot the bill.

"Obi-Wan, you're _sure_ there isn't anything of value left aboard?" Qui-Gon held the communicator close, half-turned into the corner to hide it. I scuffed around in the sand, turning up another of the small brass coins used by the locals.

"A few containers of supplies… the Queen's wardrobe, maybe." Padmé didn't look the least bit upset by the possibility of losing her fancy clothes. "Not enough for you to barter with, not in the amounts you're talking about." The Master's sigh was tiny, but he was certainly disappointed.

"All right. Another solution will present itself. I'll check back." Then the commlink was tucked away, a weary look settling on his features.

Padmé had vetoed the idea of trading the cruiser for a smaller but fully-functional ship early on. Apparently the vessel belonged to the government of Naboo, not its monarch. I sighed as Master Jinn stepped out into the square again, but Jar Jar grabbed his arm.

"No ahgain," he complained loudly. "Da bee-ins hairabouts kah-wazy. Weesa be robbed un crunched!"

"Not likely." The human's voice was scathing. "We have nothing of value; that's our _problem_." That and the Gungan himself.

"Master," I said in an undertone as I moved to walk beside him, "what's the usual rate of growth for a training bond?" He looked at me sharply. "Say, to be able to locate one's Padawan and know generally what they're up to?"

"It depends on those involved, but I've never heard of one getting that far along in less than a week. Why?"

"You remember the boy from the Toydarian's shop?" Qui-Gon nodded. "Well, he's over there, about a hundred meters off, looking for something his mother can use to supplement their dinner." I pointed in Anakin's direction, resisting the urge to go to him.

Master Jinn stopped to outright stare at me, and Padmé did as well, looking confused. Artoo whistled questioningly.

"How is that possible?" the tall man whispered.

"His potential…" I shook my head. "Once he's trained, he'll be able to take on the whole High Council, all at once. And I was called to join your mission, to come here, for him." Then yelling forced our attention away from the subject.

Binks was obviously letting his stomach think for him; his rather long tongue was wrapped around a dead animal, which in turn was wired to a vendor's stall. The man in the stall was demanding payment.

Suddenly, Jar Jar relinquished his hold on the creature, snapping the wire and sending it flying toward a restaurant. It landed in a customer's soup. As if that wasn't bad enough, the customer was a Dug. Moments later, the Gungan was flat on his back in the dust, the dripping diner on his chest and holding up the ersatz projectile.

"[You!]"

"Who, meesa?" At least it seemed that he could recognize one word of Huttese.

"[Is this yours?]" The dead critter was waved about in a threatening manner.

"[Careful, Sebulba.]" The familiar voice rang out above the crowd's noise. Anakin slid between onlookers and stepped into the cleared area around the confrontation. He smiled briefly at me before directing his full attention to the angry Dug. "[This one's very connected.]"

"[Connected? Whadda ya mean, _slave_?]" The tone of voice turned the word into an epithet. These two had a history, and if I was connecting the dots correctly, this could get very ugly.

"[As in Hutt,]" the boy started blithely.

"[And Queens.]" Keeping up my Huttese was paying off now. "[Big time outlanders.]"

"[I'd hate to see you diced before we race again.]" So I was right, this was the infamous podracer who cheated with every breath.

"[Next time we race, worm-o, it will be the _end_ of you!]" Clearly there was no love lost here. "[If you weren't a slave, I'd squash you right now!]" The Dug threw the animal at the vendor as he turned.

"[You and what army?]" I called, putting a supportive hand on Anakin's shoulder.

"[It'd be a pity if you had to pay for me,]" the kid threw after the retreating figure. The others came closer, and I noticed Qui-Gon's furrowed brow. It surprised me a bit to realize that he didn't understand Huttese, but that explained why many of the comments about him through the day had failed to get a reaction.

"Hi!" Anakin said brightly.

"This one," I grumbled, jerking a thumb in Jar Jar's direction, "was about to be turned into orange goo." The idiot's flinch almost amused me.

"He picked a fight with a Dug," the little blond added. "An especially dangerous Dug named Sebulba."

"Nosir, nosir," Binks protested. "Meesa hates crunchen'. Dat's da last t'ing meesa wanten'."

"Nevertheless," Master Jinn chided, "the boy is right. You were heading for trouble." He turned and offered Anakin a slight bow. "Thank you, my young friend." Then his eyes flicked to me, one eyebrow rising as if to ask if this was the youngling I'd been telling him about. I responded with a tiny nod, and he frowned thoughtfully as we began moving again.

"Meesa doen' nutten!" We all ignored Jar Jar. Subtly guiding us through the market, Anakin led us to a small fruit stand tended by an old woman. She obviously recognized our friend.

"How are you feeling today, Jira?" He was very polite and respectful to her.

"The heat's never been kind to me, you know, Ani." Still, she smiled at him.

"Guess what? I found that cooling unit I've been searching for," he told her. "It's pretty beat up, but I'll have it fixed up for you in no time, I promise." The offer was incredibly kind, especially given his poverty.

"You're a fine boy, Ani." Jira's smile softened fondly.

"I'll take five pallies today," he said, abruptly business-like as he dug into a pocket. "You'll like these," he added to Padmé. He began searching the handful of odds and ends he'd pulled out, only for his goal, some of the little brass pieces, to escape his hand and land on the ground. One managed to bounce away a bit, and Qui-Gon went after it. For just a moment, his lightsaber was visible, and I saw Anakin's surprise. He didn't say a word about it, though.

"Whoops, I thought I had more," he said dejectedly when he had separated just three coins from the other bits and pieces. "Make that three—"

"Make it seven," I told Jira, laying four of the coins I'd collected on her counter. My little friend's three quickly joined them. As the old woman set the wrapped 'pallies' on the counter, the wind began to pick up, and shops started closing down.

"Gracious, my bones are aching," Jira said, collecting her own wares. "Storm's coming on, Ani. You'd better get home quick."

"Do you have shelter?" The boy looked up at Qui-Gon, seeming to divine who was in charge.

"We'll head back to our ship."

"Is it far?" Anakin's worried tone had my nerves jangling.

"On the outskirts," Padmé supplied.

"You'll never reach it in time." The wind was increasing steadily. "Sandstorms are very, _very_ dangerous. Come with me. Hurry!" The boy grabbed my hand and led us away from the market at a trot. Shortly, we entered a cul-de-sac with dozens of closed doors, many requiring narrow stairways for access. One door opened for him, and we packed inside, the sting of sand stopping as the portal closed.

I looked around and realized that this was Anakin's home. The few pieces of furniture were badly worn, and the food prep unit was tiny.

"Mom! Mom, I'm home!" A careworn woman emerged from a side door in response, then gasped as she saw the small crowd in her entry.

"Oh, my! Ani, what _is_ this?"

"These are my friends, Mom," he replied earnestly. "This is Padmé, and Serra, and…" He paused, looking at the rest of our group. "Gee, I'm sorry, I don't know your names." I smiled. He'd gotten the important part: he knew the _girls'_ names.

"I'm Qui-Gon Jinn, and this is Jar Jar Binks," the Jedi Master said graciously. The astromech beeped at him and nudged his leg.

"… and our droid, Artoo-Deetoo," Padmé added.

"I'm building a droid!" Ani's bright blue eyes fixed on me and the brunette. "Wanna see?"

"Anakin!" The exasperation in his mother's voice was clear, but fond. "Why are they here?"

"A sandstorm, Mom. Listen." Almost on cue, the wind howled outside, accompanied by the hiss of airborne sand.

"Your son was kind enough to offer us shelter," Qui-Gon explained further. I held my rucksack out toward him and mouthed the word 'food.' The rations I'd packed would minimize our presence's impact on the Skywalkers' supplies. He took it none too soon.

"Come on, let me show you Threepio!" I allowed the kid to drag me off to his room.

With Padmé and Artoo there as well, the room felt very small indeed. A fair-sized object, covered with a dusty-looking cloth, sat on the workbench spanning one wall. Tools and parts were laid out on the surface's free space. To my tinkerer's eyes, the placement of each object was logical, though others might find it chaotic.

Then Ani pulled the cover off his work, and I applauded mentally. It was a bipedal, humanoid-shaped droid, all but completed. One eye was missing—it sat on the workbench, close at hand—and there wasn't an outer 'skin' to protect the servos and circuits, but the latter was incidental. The _real_ work was already done, and almost any half-wit could finish the project.

"Isn't he _great_? He's not quite finished."

"Oh, he's wonderful," the Naboo girl replied, seemingly unaware of the warmth in her voice.

"Very nice work," I added. "Looks like a rather hefty memory core, though." Said component was at least half again the size of cores used in mass-produced droids of similar forms.

"I built in a redundancy; if someone wipes his memory without my codes, it keeps a backup that I can restore with other codes. And that still leaves a lot of room for languages and domestic skills." Then Anakin turned to Padmé again. "You really like him? He's a protocol droid, to help Mom. Watch!" He pressed a button behind the machine's head.

"Oh!" Somehow, he'd acquired a vocoder with an accent straight from the wealthier parts of Coruscant. "Oh my. Am I blind? Where is everyone?" His creator snatched up the missing eye and plugged it in. Both lit up with a warm golden color. "How do you do?" The droid stood and executed a stiff bow. "I am See-Threepio, human-cyborg relations. How may I serve you?"

"He's perfect." The young woman really meant it, too.

"When the storm's over, you can see my racer." Ani beamed at me. "My own podracer!" I returned the smile. A fellow mechanic that the Force intended to be my Padawan. I couldn't think of anything I'd like more.

Threepio shuffled around the room—most protocol droids have limited joint mobility—and Artoo whistled at him.

"I _beg_ your pardon? What do you _mean_, I'm naked?" He sounded affronted. There was another series of beeps from the astromech. "My _parts_ are showing? Oh, my goodness. How embarrassing."

Anakin finally managed to persuade Threepio to return to his spot on the workbench and shut him down. Then he pulled out design sketches for his pod, and I was blown away.

"With that much power from the engines and that low a gross weight, you're really gonna _fly_."

"Yeah. Once I get it done, I'm gonna totally smoke Sebulba."

"Ani! Dinner!" Hearing the muffled call, I helped put things away and followed him back into the main room.

The table was surprisingly comfortable for six, which likely meant that this apartment had originally been intended for larger families. The food from my pack had been used well; there was a bit of variety on the table. Jar Jar was happily slurping his soup when the conversation turned to the Skywalkers' situation.

"All slaves have transmitters placed inside their bodies somewhere," Anakin's mother, Shmi, explained.

"I've been working on a scanner to try and locate them, but no luck." The boy sounded glum about his failure.

"Any attempt to escape…" The woman's near-whisper was laden with fear.

"… and they blow you up… boom!" Aside from what, exactly, would be going 'boom,' _that_ sounded like a normal boy.

Padmé and Jar Jar looked absolutely horrified. Nor was Qui-Gon looking up from his plate.

"How wude." The Gungan's comment finally broke the silence.

"I can't believe there is _still_ slavery in the galaxy," the girl murmured, obviously shocked. "The Republic's anti-slavery laws…"

"The Republic doesn't exist out here," Shmi explained. "We must survive on our own."

"Most of the Outer Rim is like this," I added. "There's nothing out here to enforce the Republic's laws. It's also why no one will accept Republic credits." Another long silence hung over the table.

"Have you ever seen a podrace?" Anakin asked Padmé, trying to turn the subject to something more cheerful. She shook her head, and worry lines deepened on Shmi's face. Jar Jar's long tongue whipped out to grab a piece of fruit from the other end of the table. Master Jinn and I both glared at his lack of manners.

"They have podracing on Malastare," the older man commented casually. "Very fast, very dangerous."

"I'm the only human who can do it," Ani said proudly. Then he caught his mother's look. "What, Mom? I'm not bragging. It's true. Watto says he's never heard of a human doing it."

"You must have Jedi reflexes, if you race pods." I rolled my eyes and kicked Qui-Gon's shin under the table. I'd already told him about the bond that continued to develop, and the home was saturated with the boy's feelings and memories. The Force had wormed its way into everything, like a creeper vine through trees.

My train of thought was derailed when Binks tried his little tongue trick again. This time, it didn't get to the fruit bowl; Master Jinn had caught it.

"_Don't_ do that again," he warned. The Gungan nodded and tried to say something, but the words were garbled beyond recognition. The appendage was released and snapped back into his mouth.

"I… I was wondering… something…" I could feel Anakin's insatiable curiosity through our connection.

"What?" my comrade asked patiently.

"Well, ahh… you're a Jedi, aren't you?" How would the tall man talk his way out of this one?

"What makes you think that?"

"I saw your laser sword." Hah. "Only Jedi carry that kind of weapon." Qui-Gon's slow smile as he sat back made me frown.

"Perhaps I killed a Jedi and stole it from him."

"I don't think so," the boy responded confidently. "No one can kill a Jedi."

"I wish that were so…" I started, surprised that we had said the same thing in unison again. Weird.

"I had a dream I was a Jedi. I came back here and freed all the slaves." It was a noble goal, one that I would be all too happy to support, if it could ever be done. "Have you come to free us?"

"No, I'm afraid not," Qui-Gon replied with a weary sigh.

"I think you have. Why else would you be here?" I reached over and gently covered Ani's hand with my own, letting the physical contact convey my mixed feelings.

"I can see there's no fooling you," I told him. "You mustn't let anyone know about us being Jedi." His eyes brightened with the secret. "We're on our way to Coruscant, the capital of the Republic, on a _very_ important mission, and it must be kept quiet."

"Coruscant. Wow." The little blond was awed at the idea. "How did you end up _here_, in the Outer Rim?"

"Our ship was damaged," Padmé replied. "We're stranded until we can repair it."

"I can help! I can fix anything!"

"I believe you." I smiled gently at him. "But some of it is beyond repair, and has to be replaced entirely. So we have to get the parts, first."

"Wit no nutten moola ta trade," Jar Jar added mournfully.

"These junk dealers must have a weakness of some kind." The young Queen was brainstorming aloud, but that was what we needed to do anyway.

"Gambling," Shmi said scornfully. "Everything here revolves around betting on those awful races."

"Podracing," Qui-Gon mused. "Greed can be a powerful ally, if it's used properly." I shot him a glare and contemplated kicking him again. If my Padawan got hurt in whatever he was planning, he'd regret it.

"I've built a racer! It's the fastest _ever_." Ani was so proud of what he'd accomplished with scrounged parts, and he had a right to be. "There's a big race, the day after tomorrow, on Boonta Eve. You could enter my pod. It's all but finished—"

"Anakin, settle down." His mother's voice was stern. "Watto won't let you—"

"Watto doesn't know I've built it," he insisted. "You could make him think it's yours, and get him to let me pilot it for you." It was a good idea, but…

"I don't want you to race, Ani." Shmi's face and voice showed her fear. "It's awful. I die every time Watto makes you do it." I took a mental step back. This was a Skywalkers-only discussion, and I wasn't about to get in the middle of it. Too bad others didn't realize that.

"But Mom, I love it. And they need help, they're in trouble. The prize money would _more_ than pay for the parts they need."

"Weesa inna pitty bad goo." Yay. Pity party for one.

"Your mother's right. Is there anyone friendly to the Republic who might be able to help us?" Yeah, right. Why would anyone fitting that description live on this dustball if they didn't have to? Our hostess shook her head sadly.

"We _have_ to help them, Mom. You said that the biggest problem in the universe is that no one helps each other." Well, _that_ was certainly true, and it was part of why the Jedi Order existed: to help those in need.

"Anakin, don't—" A loud belch interrupted Shmi, and I glared fiercely at Binks. His manners, or lack thereof, were likely to get him killed someday.

"I'm sure Qui-Gon doesn't want to put your son in danger," Padmé murmured after a long silence. More and more, I could see why her people had elected her, even at the tender age of fourteen. She was a born diplomat, but had the durasteel in her backbone to fight for what was right. "We will find another way…"

"No, Ani's right." Though her head was bowed, Mistress Skywalker's Force-signature radiated courage. "There _is_ no other way. I may not like it, but he can help you." Worry-lined brown eyes met mine and blazed. "He was meant to help you."

Meeting that gaze, I tried to project my determination to be the best Jedi Master Anakin could possibly have. I would _not_ let this woman down.

"Is that a yes?" His excitement burst open like a soap bubble in one corner of my mind. "That _is_ a yes!"


	9. Chapter 9

Whispers of Menace

A _Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace_ Alternate Universe

**Chapter Nine:**

**Preparing for the Race and Interesting Information**

Bright and early the next morning, we returned to Watto's shop, careful to allow Ani time to cajole the Toydarian into acquiescence as much as he could. As we stood outside, I could just make out the cadence of Huttese, and my almost-Padawan pulsed with his desire for things to go right. They were probably having a rather heated discussion, and I dreaded the possibility of the junk dealer deciding that his 'possession' needed to be disciplined. After all, his actions could be considered 'uppity behavior' for a slave.

"Are you sure about this?" The gentle hand on my elbow brought an abrupt halt to my worried pacing. Padmé was concerned, and well within her rights to question the plan.

"About the podrace part, yes." I glanced at the shop's closed door. "About letting him talk to Watto by himself first, no. If that creature lays one unkind _finger_ on him…" The statement hung there, unfinished. I wasn't actually certain _what_ I would do if the situation arose, but that greedy blue fiend in there definitely wouldn't like it.

"If you're sure," she murmured. Then the door burst open, and Watto fluttered out, Anakin trailing him like a recalcitrant nek.

"The boy tells me you wanna sponsor him inna da big race. You can't afford da parts. How can you do this? Not on Republic credits, I think." He laughed as though he'd punched a big hole in our plans.

"My ship will be the entry fee," the other Jedi replied, as calm as ever. He opened his hand, revealing a portable holoprojector with an exterior rendering of the cruiser slowly rotating above it.

He had such large hands—I blinked, feeling something like mental whiplash. Where in the nine Corellian hells had _that_ thought come from?

"Not bad, not bad. A Nubian," the Toydarian mused. I rolled my eyes. We'd told him as much yesterday.

"It's in good order, except for the parts we need." The round unit vanished beneath the dingy gray poncho.

"But what would da boy ride? He smashed up _my_ pod in da last race. It would take some time to fix it."

"It wasn't my fault, really," Ani supplied, wide eyes focused on Padmé. I sent a wave of reassurance to the corner of my mind where our growing bond had taken up residence. "Sebulba flashed me with his vent ports. I actually saved the pod… mostly."

"That you did!" Watto laughed. "Da boy is good, no doubts there."

"I have… acquired… a pod in a game of chance. 'The fastest ever built,' I'm told," Qui-Gon replied, repeating a comment I'd made during the very light meal after we'd woken.

I knew what I was talking about, too. Aside from my mechanical skills, I'd been watching podraces with my friend Dex—who was _not_ a Jedi, thanks very much—for a couple of years, now. He'd been the one to introduce me to the sport during one of my long inactive periods at the Great Temple. We'd had some rousing discussions about the actual and potential capabilities of various designs.

"I hope you didn't kill anyone I know for it." The laugh was decidedly malicious this time. "So, you supply da pod and da entry fee, I supply da boy. We split da winnings fifty-fifty, I think."

"Fifty-fifty?!" I was a bit surprised by my outburst, even as I walked up and poked a finger into the fat little fraud's chest. "If it's going to be fifty-fifty, then I suggest _you _front the cash for the entry. If we win, you keep the money and give us the parts we need. If we lose, you keep the ship." Melodramatically, I folded my arms and turned my back on him. "Either way, you win," I added with a sniff.

"Mmm, deal!" Watto sounded frustrated, his greed thwarted. I didn't even look as the flapping of his wings retreated toward the shop. "[Your friends are foolish ones, me thinks!]" he told Anakin before going inside.

_~Who's the more foolish?~_ I thought, putting an arm around my little buddy as we headed back toward the slave quarters. _~The swindler, or the fool who gets swindled?~_ And as the day progressed, I grew more and more certain that _we_ were the swindlers.

"Back off, you!" I told Jar Jar for the umpteenth time, jabbing at his chest with a big hydrospanner. "Don't even touch her!" Seeing him move out of the corner of my eye a few minutes later, I pointed the heavy tool at him again without turning. "I'm watching you!"

"Almost done," Ani sighed as we rested in a patch of shade at midday. "Just gotta make sure she'll fire, and then we can clean her up and make her look _good_."

"I know Sebulba cheats," I said after a moment. His surprised expression made me grin. "Hey, I watch whenever a broadcast gets as far Coreward as Coruscant! I know he's a filthy sleemo son-of-a-bantha, but the camera angles are never good enough for me to see what tricks he pulls. You mentioned his vent ports…" And I'd helped rig up a shield generator to protect the engines. "But what else? Hey, I gotta protect my pal, right?" With my arm around his shoulders, the kid mustered up a little smile.

"Well, he's got loose parts that he throws into intakes."

"Which we can tweak the shields to handle." And they were completely legal… not that much _wasn't_, at least in podracing.

"Bashes other pods around, but you'd have noticed that." I nodded. "And I think he goes around and messes with things before the race starts, sometimes." He gave me a troubled look. "When he's mad at another pilot, or their sponsor, or a crew member, something _always_ happens to take them out of the race."

"Hey." I put a hand under his chin, tilting his face up so that our eyes met. "He won't get close enough to touch this beauty of yours. And you're gonna beat him so soundly tomorrow that he won't be able to show his ugly mug in an arena ever again."

"But what about after you guys leave?" The blond's voice was small and terrified. "What if he comes after me, or Mom?"

"Don't you worry about that, okay? You let me and Qui-Gon take care of it. All you need to do is make sure he gets a nice big poodoo pie at the end of the race." He blinked a drowsy assent, then snuggled into my side and quickly fell asleep. Qui-Gon appeared, looking down from the rooftop on the other side of the courtyard, and I beckoned to him.

"Something wrong?" he whispered when he came near, careful not to wake the boy. Swift as a striking rock-snake, I grabbed the collar of his poncho and pulled him toward me, our noses nearly touching.

"He comes with us tomorrow," I hissed. "I don't care _what_ you have to do; either Watto lets them go, or I'll crisp the transmitters." _~If I can do it without harming either of them,~_ I added to myself, knowing that I'd need to free Shmi as well if it came to that. "Do what you can for his mother, too. I've got a backup plan for her, but I want you to _try_ to get them both. Got it?" He blinked, looking a bit shocked at the vehemence in my voice, and nodded. I let him go. "Good."

The sidelong glance of respect that I got as he left felt kinda nice, actually.

Anakin managed to get a nice nap in after that, though his mom checked on us at one point. Her smile when she caught my eye was terribly relieved.

Once my young friend woke back up, we returned to tinkering with small adjustments. A darker-complected boy arrived to a warm greeting, and once he'd been introduced as Kitster Banai, a friend, Ani was ready to fire the pod's engines for the first time. They roared to life with beautiful blue flames ringing the exhaust ports, their tips edged with orange. Both boys cheered loudly, and once he'd shut the engines down, the blond threw himself at me for a big hug.

"We're gonna do it!"

"You betcha," I agreed. Artoo whistled and beeped.

"Artoo-Deetoo has offered to paint the pod for you, Master Anakin," Threepio translated. "All that he claims he needs is a design and the paint."

"Wizard!" Anakin dashed inside, and came back out a little slower, carrying three containers and what I suspected was a drawing. He held the sheet out for the astromech to see as he set the containers down, pointing at different sections as he chattered away. After a few minutes, he left the droid to the task, leaning against me. Kitster realized he had to go, but promised to bring a pair of eopies in the morning to tow the pod to the track.

"There's still a few hours of daylight left," I commented. "Do you want to work on that cooling unit?"

"That's right! Jira has some pretty bad issues during the dry season." And he'd been correct about the unit; it had gotten some very rough handling along the line, but the majority of it was still intact. We finished the repairs just as the first sun dipped below the horizon, and then it was time for dinner. After, Qui-Gon 'cleaned up' a small cut Ani had gotten, and I suspected that he would have Obi-Wan check my small friend's midi-chlorian count back on the cruiser.

I sat up with Shmi after the others had gone to sleep, both of us watching Artoo add a few finishing touches to the parade banner that matched the pod. She sighed, then looked at me.

"You'll be taking him away with you, I suppose."

"Yes; it's why I was brought here. Not that I don't _want_ to," I added quickly. "I just… I never thought I'd get the chance to have a Padawan of my own."

"A what?"

"It's the Jedi term for a student or apprentice, the closest most of us get to having a younger sibling or offspring, most of the time." I glanced at her. "There are special cases, of course, for those whose species are dying out, but… Masters and Padawans are a Jedi's family."

"You wouldn't have had one?"

"It's not that I haven't wanted to, but the High Council—our leaders, the elders of the Order, so to speak—they don't really like me that much. I'm too 'wild,' too much of a maverick in their eyes, for them to ever allow me to mold one of their younglings." Her alarmed expression spoke volumes. "They won't be able to keep me from training Ani. The decision was never in their hands."

"What do you mean?"

"I… perceive the Force a bit differently than most, more as a being with thoughts and plans than the energy field all Jedi are taught about. It told me to join Master Jinn and his Padawan on their mission, and to come to Mos Espa after we landed here. It chose to form the training bond between me and Anakin, and the Council cannot refute Its demonstrated will or break that bond, no matter how much they might want to."

"Destiny."

"Mm, yes." A more comfortable silence stretched between us.

"Will I ever see him again?" she finally asked.

"It's not like the Council could really stop us," I replied with a wry chuckle. "I'll make sure he writes regularly, at the very least." I paused, feeling the Force whisper to me. "He'll be a great Jedi; he'll do you and his father proud."

"He has no father."

"I… I'm sorry for your loss." It was the only way I knew to express what I felt for a man I would never meet.

"No, you misunderstand me." Shmi stood and walked to the window, leaning against the sill as she looked at the stars. "I'm not simple-minded; I know all too well how things go between a woman and a man." She turned to me, pain in her eyes. "I was less than half his age when the slavers took me from my family. So young that I don't remember anything but my own name and that our family was called 'those who walk the skies.' I was so very proud of that. And then…" She choked back sudden tears. "I was turned into a pleasure slave, not that _I_ ever took any pleasure from it. And the being who owned me, who rented me out to others, oh, he was a canny one." Bitterness crept into her voice. "I compared with the other girls, once. Never was one of us assigned to someone of our own species, or of a species fertile with our own. None of us had ever seen a pregnant woman, though we knew what pregnancy was. Then we realized that was what was wrong with me."

Horrified by what she'd revealed to me, I stood and tugged gently, turning her toward me and then holding her when she began to weep. Never mind that what she was saying technically couldn't happen; with the Force, _anything_ was possible. And even beyond that knowledge, I could sense _very_ clearly that her words were truth.

"I believe you," I whispered, stroking her hair.

"He's the only family I have."

"And I would _never_ take him from you completely." Shmi's emotions began to settle again, and I gave her the time she needed.

"I was dumped, like garbage, when they realized that bearing Ani had changed my body in ways that made me no longer 'pleasing.'" It took a long time for those words to come. "But they couldn't get him out of my sight, no matter how hard they tried." I squeezed gently, reminding her wordlessly that it was in the past, that 'they' had failed. "They tried to kill him a dozen times, at least, before he was a month old. Tried to snap his neck, cut his throat, beat him—" Her throat seized up in remembered panic. "But their blows just slid off him, the blades wouldn't pierce his skin, his spine bent and sprang back instead of breaking."

"Do you realize what that means?" She shook her head, uncomprehending. I knew I was barely skimming the surface, but even that little knowledge was more precious than Corusca gems. "Anakin is a gift from the Force, in every sense of the phrase. For losing your kin, the abuse you survived; he is the beginning of a new family and a new life for you. I've been the Order's black nerf, have been forced to sit on my hands so often; Anakin is the proof of what I've been telling the Council for years, that their denial of emotion and attachment is a mistake." Then I shook my head. "And he's more than that, for many others, though I don't know why."

Shmi chuckled wetly, wiping her nose and then trying to clean up my tunics. I let her, knowing that the domestic task was helping to settle her nerves.

"When we came here, I heard some of the family names of those who'd been here a long time, and I chose to call myself and Anakin 'Skywalkers,' both to honor my family and to fit in a bit. I wish I remembered the word and not just its meaning, but…"

"I understand." Every member of my clan who'd been in the Order had used the surname 'Ti,' even if they had originally had another due to a parent or grandparent's marriage. Once the careworn woman had regained her control, I brought up my only remaining concern.

"He's supposed to be worrying about getting enough sleep tonight and a good breakfast in the morning so he can be in top shape for tomorrow's race, but you know what he's agonizing over?" She shook her head. "He's worried about Sebulba coming after you once he's left with us. Is there someone you can turn to, if we cannot free you ourselves?"

"Certainly not Watto," Shmi replied after a moment of thought. "But there's a man, a moisture farmer named Cliegg Lars, who tries to come by whenever he's in town. He said he's started saving up so that he can free me, but on his income that would take years."

"We'll see about that," I told her. "Go on, now, get some rest yourself; Ani's not the only one with a big day tomorrow." Once she had gone to her own cubbyhole of a room, I pulled the pouch of ingots from my bag and smiled.

I _definitely_ had a plan.


	10. Chapter 10

The title for this chapter comes from a phrase used two weeks a year in the area where I grew up; one of the most popular NASCAR tracks on the circuit is just a couple of miles down the road from where I used to work.

Whispers of Menace

A _Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace_ Alternate Universe

**Chapter Ten:**

**It's Racin' Time on Tatooine!**

Kitster showed up bright and early with the pair of eopies to tow Anakin's podracer to the arena hangers. There, it would get a cursory 'inspection,' and wealthy fans would get a chance for a closer look.

Not that I really expected anyone to be interested in our entry until _after_ the race.

Anakin and I made a brief stop to deliver the cooling unit to the old woman at the market, and she gladly loaded us down with pallies for everyone in thanks. I certainly didn't mind a little extra fuel in my stomach.

"I warn you, no funny business." I looked up from the snack in my hand to see Watto talking to Qui-Gon over by Sebulba's section of the hangar. The Dug was getting a massage from a pair of Rutian Twi'lek slaves, the turquoise-skinned girls dressed in barely-decent yellow mesh outfits. Matching ones, of course, and the girls were either twins or carefully paired to look it.

"You don't think that Anakin will win?" I smirked from atop one engine, wondering how much Master Jinn would be able to get out of the Toydarian.

"Don't get me wrong-o, I have great faith in da boy. He's a credit to your race, but Sebulba there is going ta win, I think." Ah, yet another being who would get a rude awakening soon.

"Why do you think that?"

"He always wins," Watto replied with a laugh. "I'm betting heavily on Sebulba."

"I'll take that bet." All noise in their immediate vicinity ceased.

"You _what_?"

"I'll wager my new racing pod against, say, the boy and his mother."

"A pod for slaves? I don't think so." Then the small shopkeeper seemed to consider how much the pod would be worth, if it wasn't wrecked. "Well… perhaps. Just one, da mother, though. Da boy isn't for sale."

"He's small, he can't be worth much." I sighed. The older Jedi was displaying his naïveté about slavery again; skilled workers of Anakin's caliber were usually much older, and worth more than their own weight in platinum. As little as my friend was, it'd have to be Corusca gems. "For the fastest pod ever built?" Still, Watto shook his head no. "Both, or no bet," Qui-Gon finally demanded.

"No pod's worth two slaves, not by a long shot. One slave, or nothing."

"The boy, then."

"I think we'll let fate decide, hmm?" the junk dealer said, holding up a cheap chance cube. I saw two blue sides, the others red, and from the way he was holding it, it had to be weighted so that it would come up red on every roll. "Blue, it's da boy; red, his mother." The die was cast, and a tiny Force-nudge from my comrade tipped it one face farther than it would have gone otherwise, to blue. Watto snatched it back up, furious. "You won da small toss, outlander, but you won't win da race. So it makes little difference." I stifled an amused snort as he flapped past me and toward Anakin.

"[Better stop your friend's betting, or I'll end up owning him, too,]" he told the kid snidely before leaving.

"What did he mean by that?" Curious blue eyes turned to me.

"Nothing you need to worry about," I replied. I finished off my pallie just as Qui-Gon rejoined us. Tossing another at him, I slid to the ground. "I'll be back shortly, just need to take care of a couple of errands. You're on watch." Shoulder to shoulder with the man, I paused briefly. "Nobody but our group gets _near_ the pod or _my_ Padawan. Understood?" The brisk nod in response reassured me.

My first stop was an electronics vendor; I selected a pair of headsets, some button holocameras, and a master recorder that would gather the signals from the other devices. They were cheap, but of decent quality, and I knew the vids from them would be priceless. I owed Dex, not only for introducing me to the world of podracing, but also for being one of my few real friends. He'd definitely appreciate _this_ gift.

Then I headed for the bookies, getting some rather strange looks for betting on 'the local kid' at thirty-to-one odds. I figured that many of the resident gamblers were familiar with who and what Anakin was; I'd only heard of the Boonta Eve Classic a few times, including from Dex, and the broadcasts had never gotten as far as Coruscant. Nobody batted an eye at my method of payment, at least.

I returned just in time to set up the equipment before the pods were hauled out onto the track. My little buddy didn't question what I was doing, but when I tucked a headset into his helmet, he gave me a knowing smile.

Fode and Beed, the podracing circuit's famed two-headed commentator, could be heard booming their welcome as the parade of pilots and crews emerged from the hangar. C-3PO led our contingent, holding Artoo's banner aloft. The cloth rippled in the wind, the blue-and-white design matching the one on Anakin's pod, with a bar of the yellow from the engines on the loose end of the cloth.

"[Greetings, greetings,]" Fode cried in Huttese. "[We have perfect weather today for the Boonta Eve Classic, the most hazardous of all podraces!]"

"That's absolutely right," Beed continued in Basic. "And it's a big turnout here, from all corners of the Outer Rim Territories. I see the contestants are making their way onto the starting grid."

With the other pilots and crew chiefs, I strode into the sunslight, one hand on Ani's shoulder as we lined up in front of a specific luxury seating box. Between the decadent furnishings and the size, it belonged to a Hutt. Echoing the starting grid layout, I mimicked the other crew chiefs in standing behind my pilot, waiting to honor the local host while the pods were set up and the racers were introduced to the crowd.

"[Yes, there they are!]"

"I see Ben Quadinaros, from the Tund system."

"[And Gasgano with the new Ord Podrovia.]"

"There's two-time winner, Boles Roor."

"[On the front line, the reigning champion, Sebulba of Pixelito! By far today's favorite.]" The Dug ate up the crowd's cheering.

"And we have a late entry, young Anakin Skywalker, a local boy." The kid waved.

"[I hope he has better luck this time.]"

"And now the flaggers are moving onto the track." Banners cracked in the stiff wind as Jabba the Hutt, followed by his mate, Gardulla, slithered into the box. We all bowed dutifully as they waved.

"[His honor, our glorious host, Jabba the Hutt, has entered the arena.]" The race fans roared.

"[Welcome!]" As the overgrown slug called names, people peeled out of the lineup to head for pods and pits. "[Ben Quadinaros of Tund. Ody Mandrell of Tatooine. Wan Sandage of Ord Radama. Neva Kee of Xagobah. Ark Roose of Sump. Xelbree of Kinooine. Mars Guo of Phu. Elan Mak of Ploo IV. Teemto Pagalies of Moonus Mandel. Boles Roor of Sneeve. Gasgano of Troiken. Ebe E. Endocott of Triffis. Clegg Holdfast of New Plympto. Anakin Skywalker of Tatooine…]" We ran toward the smallest vehicle on the track as he continued, to where our friends were waiting.

"Be safe," Shmi pleaded, hugging her son.

"I will, Mom, I promise."

"Dis berry loony, Ani. May da guds be kind, meesa pal-o."

"You carry all our hopes." The boy lit up at Padmé's words.

"I _won't_ let you down."

Then Sebulba sidled up, a vicious grin on his face. I erected an invisible wall around pod and pilot, and the Dug appeared a bit confused as to why he couldn't get any closer.

"[You won't walk away from this one, slave scum!]"

"[Don't count on it, slime-ball,]" Ani retorted. His glance at me said that he'd noticed my use of the Force.

"[You're bantha poodoo!]" came the uninventive reply.

"[We'll see who still has a pod in three laps.]" The 'champion' sneered at me and stalked off as I turned to hoist my buddy onto his machine and the others retreated to a skybox. The little blond slipped into the seat and began to strap in. "All set?" He nodded. "Remember, concentrate on the moment. Feel, don't think. Use your instincts." Then I ruffled his hair and smiled. "May the Force be with you." I backed away as he pulled on his helmet and goggles, then turned and jogged toward our pit, where Kitster waited with a viewscreen.

"Will he be all right?" the boy asked worriedly, handing me the second headset.

"He'll be fine!"

"[The power couplings are being activated,]" Fode announced as binders crackled to life.

"And it looks like they're clearing the grid." Beed paused until the last stragglers were out of the way. "Start your engines!" The mechanical roar was nearly deafening, and I watched the orange-edged blue flames streaming from Ani's engines critically.

"Don't open the throttle too fast," I reminded him over the headset.

"Or I'll flood and stall," he finished, having heard the warning several times already. We weren't exactly sure _how_ fast was too fast, though, since we hadn't had the time or space to test the podracer. It would have taken days to put her through her paces, perhaps a week or more.

A bridge over the track held the signal lights, and a green one blinked. The viewer showed Jabba biting the head off a small amphibian, then spitting it at a gong. The light stopped blinking to burn steadily at the same moment to signal the start.

Racers shot away with a scream of engines. A few swerved around Ani as his right engine coughed up a cloud of black smoke, but the issue was only momentary; he was off in an instant, right on their heels. Quadinaros alone was left on the starting grid, his four engines not cooperating.

It was a very _weird_ design.

"[And they're off!]"

"Looks like little Skywalker almost stalled there. He's behind the rest of the pack, and will have difficulty getting through traffic." Beed, of course, had no idea just how much power those compact engines could produce.

The track's main cameras followed the leaders through the first turns. For a while, it was all Mawhonic and Sebulba, the pair trading paint over a third of the course. But finally, the Dug forced his rival into a rock formation, and the big orange pod was on its own again.

Meanwhile, on my own screens, Anakin slid past Sandage and Kee easily, neither pilot seeming to even notice his presence until he was ahead of them. Dud Bolt fell next, my young friend sliding between him and the near side of a canyon turn. Then he was inside the caves, the dark walls intermittently revealed by flashes of engine flame. Out again into the nearly-blinding sunslight, wheeling gently to port in a sweeping, sand-filled canyon half a kilometer wide.

Blaster fire sounded, and the track cameras focused on the source, revealing four rifle-toting figures swathed in dust-colored cloth.

"Looks like a few Tusken Raiders have camped out on the Canyon Dune Turn," Beed commented. A shot ricocheted off the tail of Anakin's control pod without phasing him in the least. It seemed to me that this had to be a common issue.

Xelbree challenged Sebulba as they moved into a sharper starboard bend, the inner wall so jagged that their avoidance of it made sense. The second-place racer tried to move above, only for the leader to move up in his way. The Dug backed off his throttle a hair, and when Xelbree moved up on his right, a brief flash made him flinch straight into the rocky cliff. Vent ports, I figured.

A pod ahead of my Padawan faltered, one piece headed inexorably for the smaller racer. It fell short of the control section, but only just, instead catching the cable attached to the starboard engine. As quickly as that, Ani was spinning out of control on one tether, digging frantically until he came up with a pole-like tool. He had to slow down as he extended the object toward the loose cable end, but quickly grabbed it and set the end back where it belonged. Bolt and Holdfast had taken advantage of his issue to pass him, but soon the young human was right on their tails again.

By then, I could see the plume of sand being kicked up out on the Hutt Flats as racers approached the arena. Quadinaros' engines chose that moment to start up with a distracting roar, the power couplings crackling unusually loudly for a second before failing entirely, and the four jet engines chose four different directions in which to sail off before exploding.

"There go Quadinaros' power couplings!" One camera showed the pilot pounding his fists on the control pod in frustration.

"[And here comes Sebulba in record time!]"

"Record lap for the sleemo," I relayed to Ani. "Think you can make up the distance in lap two?" The leaders thundered by as a pod just ahead of my friend clipped the top of a dune with one engine and began trailing smoke. I cringed involuntarily.

"Of _course_ I can!" There was a brief pause as the small pod rocketed through the arena and back toward Waldo Grade. "How far behind am I?"

"Less than ten seconds, buddy." I grinned as his enthusiasm bubbled over our bond.

"It looks like Skywalker is moving up the field," said Beed, sounding surprised by how much ground the kid had gained. "He's in…"

"[Sixth place. Not bad,]" Fode finished.

"Four of them between you," I added. "Go get 'im!"

The pod that had clipped the dune pulled into the pits next to the fuming Quadinaros, who was still strapped in, probably waiting for everyone to get through before getting out of the protection of sheet metal and repulsors.

"[Ody Mandrell into the pits for some attention.]" A droid, apparently of the same type that had gotten Jar Jar into trouble at Watto's shop that first day, moved up to inspect the damaged engine and got sucked inside, spit out the back end virtually unharmed. The larger piece of equipment, however, coughed and died.

Out on the Mushroom Flats, Anakin caught up to Gasgano, trying to pass on the right and finding himself blocked. An attempt on the left was similarly thwarted, and the pair slid across the desert floor like a krayt dragon chasing a womp rat. But Metta Drop hove into view, and the smaller racer slowed as if to make a drop shift. The Xexto looked back, checking Ani's position, then made the drop first. The next instant, the boy's thruster bars were shoved as far forward as they would go, and he soared over the astonished veteran racer on to Ebe Crater Valley.

He whipped through Beggar's Canyon next, surprising Aldar Beedo when he slipped past by the narrowest of margins emerging onto the Plain. Tyerell beat him into the Whip by a quarter-second, and the close quarters kept them that way into the caves. Halfway through, fire blossomed in the darkness, and Anakin was forced to go straight through it. I winced. A pity it had been Tyerell; he was a gentleman, for a podracer, and there would be no rescue for him from inside Laguna Cave. The relief crews refused to enter for fear of the krayt dragon that laired inside.

Pagalies, too, lost his vehicle when one of the Tuskens on the Canyon Dune Turn got a lucky hit. That left Sebulba and Ani out front, with nine others trailing behind at increasing intervals. The two fierce rivals screamed through the arena with less than a hundred meters between them.

"At the start of the third and final lap, Sebulba is in the lead, followed closely by Skywalker!"

Daringly, my buddy pulled up alongside the Dug in Beggar's Canyon, obviously attempting to pass the larger pod. A button holocamera showed the flare of a vent port on my screen, and the responding crackle of the shields. Unfortunately, physics pushed the lighter craft off course just a bit. A line of warning beacons got shorter as the power couplings sheared off their tops, and people scrambled away from a barrier just before the tiny pod burst through it.

"Skywalker is forced onto the service ramp!"

"[Oh no!]" Even from the pits, I could see the minute speck shoot into the sky above the surrounding cliffs. But the boy kept his cool, flicking a few switches and then shoving the thruster bars forward as he dove back into the canyon.

_Ahead_ of Sebulba.

"Amazing! A controlled thrust, and he's back on course with the lead! What a move!" That would certainly be talked about for years to come.

Sebulba got ahead again as they crossed the Desert Plain and threaded Arch Canyon, but Ani was only ten meters behind as they entered the caverns for the final time. They emerged side by side, only to be forced back into single file through the Coil, Jett's Chase, and the Corkscrew. The kid went low and flat through the Devil's Doorknob for a change, his pod small enough that he didn't have to shed speed to flip onto one side before he could fit through the tiny gap.

"He's catching Sebulba!"

"[Incredible!]"

The orange podracer slammed into him again and again as they skimmed the sands, until finally they got stuck together, locked steering rods barely in view on a button holocamera.

"That little human being is out of his mind!"

"[They're neck and neck!]"

"They're side by side!"

"[Shoulder to shoulder!]"

_~I'm glad __**they're**__ having fun with this,~_ I thought sourly, watching Anakin struggle to free his vehicle. As it was, Sebulba would win, since his steering rods were set further aft.

But they parted ways with a jerk, and the larger racer slammed into a stone arch, leaving the control pod to skip and skid to a halt in the sand. Barely maintaining control as he sped into the arena, Ani reversed the engines' thrust and splayed the control paddles, effectively killing all forward motion.

In the midst of the cheering, I dropped the hardy recording equipment and ran toward the tiny pod. Others followed behind me, but I didn't care, too intent on my Padawan's well-being.

_I'm fine, Serra, I'm fine!_ his voice said from the corner of my mind where our bond now lived.

"It's Skywalker!" Beed cried over the speakers. "The crowd is going nuts! Ooh, aah, ooh, aah!"

"You did it!" He started to climb out of the pod, and I caught him under the arms and swung him around, grin splitting my face. "You won!"

It hadn't taken long, really, but the race had been nerve-wracking. All our hard work had paid off, and for now, we would celebrate.


End file.
